


If Only in My Dreams

by CeceLouise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Christmas, Drama, Dramione Winter Fic Exchange, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 58,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeceLouise/pseuds/CeceLouise
Summary: To get to Harry, a desperate Draco Malfoy kidnaps Hermione Granger. As the two spend time together, they are forced to reevaluate their opinions of each other. A spirited Christmas love story.





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Canon through HbP. Contains some elements of DH, with my own spin on events. Please R&R! I have this story completed so I will be updating at least on a weekly basis. If you'd like me to update more often, let me know in a review! ;) Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. This is just me having fun with her characters.

Draco Malfoy splashed cold water on his face and raised his eyes to the mirror above the sink. The image staring back at him was a grim one.

The last few years had not been kind to him. The reflection he saw was tired, drawn, and pale (even for him).

It was a reflection he had grown to despise over the course of his lifetime, more so in recent years, as his actions as the Malfoy heir and a Death Eater took a toll on his conscience.

But tonight, there was a subtle change in the image he saw gazing back at him. For the first time, he saw something new.

_Hope._

The smallest glimmer of hope shone back from his eyes and he clung to it like a lifeline.

After months of careful planning, tonight he would set into action a series of events that would either free him from the wretched life he had been living or end him for good.

He reached into the pocket of his impeccable dress robes and pulled out a small vial of Polyjuice Potion. He swallowed it in one gulp, twisting his face in displeasure at the foul taste.

His blond hair, sharp features, and tall stature morphed before his eyes.

He lost a few inches from his frame, his hair turned black, and his eyes went from gray to brown. Staring back at him was the moderately attractive face of Steven Carmichael, a deathly dull wizard about his own age, whom he had met several times in his childhood and teens, while traveling to the States with his parents.

"Boring as sin," he muttered distastefully. "Just Granger's type."

Leaving the bathroom, he grabbed his cloak and wand off his bed. He knew he only had a few hours before the effects of the Polyjuice Potion wore off, so he had no time to waste.

He stepped into his fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo powder, saying his destination clearly. "The Ministry of Magic!"

He had a know-it-all witch to charm.

* * *

Hermione Granger dabbed her lips with a subtle red lip gloss and assessed her reflection in the mirror. Her long dark curls had been tamed into natural ringlets that framed her face on one side and were swept behind her ear and over her shoulder on the other. Her features had been slightly highlighted with simple makeup, causing her cheeks to appear flushed, her eyes to seem darker, and her skin to look flawless.

The white dress robes she wore, with thin, gauzy off-the-shoulder straps, showed off her slim figure and hugged her waist.

The neckline was cut in a modest but attractive V, above which she wore a simple diamond pendant. Falling a few inches above her knees, the light airy material of the skirt swayed gracefully when she walked.

To finish off the look, she had on a pair of silver heels—high enough to give her a few more inches in height, but comfortable enough for her to survive the evening. On her wrist was a delicate silver charm bracelet her parents had filled over the years.

Overall, the dress was more fashionable and daring than she was used to. Ginny Weasley had taken her dress robe shopping for her first Ministry of Magic's Christmas Ball and had insisted that the white dress was the right mix of sophistication and allure.

Hermione had rolled her eyes at the redheaded witch's statement.

"Really, Ginny," she had said with a smile, "who would I possibly be hoping to attract at the Ministry's Christmas party?"

Ginny had smiled back at her conspiratorially.

"You never know, the Ministry often hosts talented wizards from all over the world at the Christmas Ball. You could meet a brilliant debonair wizard, who could sweep you off your feet and ride you off into the sunset on his broom." Ginny sighed dramatically and placed her hand to her heart.

Hermione couldn't help but stifle a laugh over her friend's dramatics. She appreciated Ginny's optimism, but the practical part of her was not so easily swayed.

"Honestly, Gin, even if such a wizard did show up, I don't think I would even notice. I've been so preoccupied recently—doing research for Harry and Ron, keeping up with the Order, and working my new job. Romance isn't exactly on my radar right now."

Which was true. She hadn't thought about a man romantically since she and Ron had started a quick relationship the summer before seventh year while hunting Horcruxes with Harry. It had been exciting at first, especially after she had spent years wishing he would notice her in that way, but it had soon fizzled out.

Although she and Ron had an excellent friendship, they both realized they were too different to sustain a romantic relationship. Ron didn't understand her penchant for reading or deep conversations. He was most enthused by Quidditch and large meals.

She quickly realized that the spark she had developed for him over the years had burned only because of their similar interest in fighting Voldemort and helping Harry. But without those things, they didn't have much to base a solid relationship on.

So, the spark had faded, and Hermione had sadly left the boys to continue their search for Horcruxes, while she returned to Hogwarts for her seventh and final year. She helped them as much as she could through her research. To ease the loneliness, she threw herself into her schoolwork, then graduation and her new Ministry job as an assistant in the Department of Magical Education.

She didn't feel that way towards Ron anymore, but she also hadn't met anyone else who excited her either. Most likely because her mind was so taken up with the impending war against Voldemort and his followers. She consoled herself that there would be time for things like that after they defeated the darkest wizard of their time and his Death Eaters.

"But Hermione," Ginny reminded her gently, "we're all swamped with the Order and everything going on right now. That hasn't stopped Harry's and my relationship from growing. I'm just saying, don't close yourself off from the possibility of love because things are so crazy right now. Look at Tonks and Lupin, and Bill and Fleur. They found love even with a war looming. You could too."

Hermione sighed. She knew Ginny was right, but she wasn't holding out hope. Perhaps she was just too practical to be swayed by romance. If there was someone out there for her, she hoped she would recognize him when he showed up. Until then, she had work to do—helping Harry and the Order defeat Voldemort was the top task on her list.

Now, as she looked herself over in her bathroom mirror one last time before preparing to Disapparate to the Ministry's Christmas Ball, she gave a sad smile and silently shook her head. In all honesty, she was so tired these days, she would much rather be curled up in her pajamas with a good book than preparing to go to a party.

But her new job at the Ministry required that she make an appearance at the ball. Plus, she knew Ginny would be wanting all the gossip about whether there were any mysterious handsome wizards there.

She grabbed her cloak, placed her wand in a delicate silver clutch purse, and headed to her fireplace to Floo to the Ministry of Magic.

Although she wasn't expecting to meet anyone at the ball, she couldn't help but feel a small dash of hope in her heart as Ginny's words floated in her head one more time. Perhaps there was someone special waiting for her out there, after all.

 


	2. Under the Mistletoe

Draco Malfoy, in disguise as Steven Carmichael, scanned the room with a frown on his face. He didn't see her.

He felt a small sense of panic at the thought that his careful preparation these past few months had been for nothing. If Granger didn't show up tonight, he was out of luck and almost out of time. Every day he spent in hiding, he was surely one day closer to being located by the Dark Lord. If that happened before he had time to set his plan in motion, he wouldn't be alive much longer.

He felt anger rise inside him. Of course, Granger would be the one to spoil his plans. She always was an annoyance. A know-it-all and goody-goody if he ever saw one.

Sure, he had been horrible to her in school the entire time he knew her, but her self-righteous attitude had always irked him. To her the world was black and white, good and evil, and she had no hesitation in placing him into the evil category.

She had no idea the indoctrination he had been subjected to growing up. Her sheltered Muggle-born life knew nothing of how, from the time he was born, he had been raised to loathe and destroy anything decent. She didn't know what it was like to be bred to hate.

She had been raised to be good, so she had been good. And she expected everyone else to be as virtuous as her. She couldn't fathom what it would be like to have to stand up against everything you'd been taught to believe, and risk death for doing so.

His eyes scanned the room once again. More guests were arriving by the minute. He assumed an uptight witch like Granger would be so eager to please her new bosses that she'd arrive early to an event like this.

Then he spotted her. He did a double take and realized he may have missed her when he had first searched. She looked different.

Gone was the bushy-haired, gawky witch he had known in his teens. Standing across the room was a lovely young woman. He looked her up and down with a critical eye, begrudgingly admitting to himself that she had certainly blossomed.

Instead of the oversized robes and baggy jumper she had worn at Hogwarts, she had on a tastefully fitted white dress that showed off her figure. She was still slim, but her legs looked long and shapely and her arms seemed defined, not skinny.

Her hair was still big but not the frizzy mess he remembered. Instead, it hung in graceful curls, framing her face and falling down the middle of her back.

But what struck him most were her features. She talked animatedly to an aged wizard whom Draco vaguely recognized. She smiled warmly, and her eyes lit up her whole face. Unlike Draco's own eyes, hers were bright and vibrant.

_The eyes of someone with a clear conscience_ , he thought to himself. Her cheekbones seemed higher and more defined than he remembered, and her cheeks had an attractive flush about them.

Huh. So, Granger was attractive. He supposed she always had been, somewhat. He had just been too busy being annoyed by her to notice. No matter. Either way, he had a job to do.

He cleared his throat and straightened his robes, then confidently strode over in her direction. He reminded himself to disguise his voice and talk with an American accent, since he was supposed to be Steven, after all.

"Mr. Beems!" He smiled warmly at the elderly wizard engaged in conversation with Granger. "It's so good to see you again."

"Steven!" The wizard beamed back at him. "How are you, my boy? I was thrilled to see your name on the guest list this year. How are things in the States?"

"Splendid!" Draco-as-Steven replied in a crisp New York accent, "I've just started teaching at Ilvermorny. Arithmancy, you know, has always been a passion of mine."

Draco had to refrain from rolling his eyes as he spoke the words. Arithmancy had been the dullest of subjects in school. But he had to stay true to his character, and the real Steven Carmichael had been mad about it.

He turned politely to Granger and saw her eyes light up with interest at his last words.  _Figures._

"Arithmancy was one of my favorite classes!" She smiled at him. "Have you read Septima Vector's new book  _Numerological Advancements in Speculation and Knowledge_?"

Draco was struck by two things. One, how much lovelier she looked now that he was even closer to her and, two, how he had never before had one of her genuine smiles directed at him. It felt odd.

"I have. It's fascinating," he lied, although he was sure the real Steven would have read the book cover-to-cover by the time the ink had barely dried.

"I haven't had a chance yet," she admitted, mournfully. "But I've heard his theories on complex number charts are quite riveting."

"That they are," Draco replied pleasantly, ready to change the subject, and held out his hand, introducing himself. "Steven Carmichael."

Richard Beems, who had been watching their exchange, spoke up.

"Forgive me for not making proper introductions! Steven, this is Hermione Granger, just graduated from Hogwarts and joined my Department of Education team. Top of her class, this one, and a real asset to the Department. Hermione, Steven's family and I go way back. They've often hosted me at their Hampton estate over the summer holidays."

As Hermione held out her hand to Draco, he gently took it in his. Bending slightly, he gazed at her and laid a gentle kiss on her hand.

"Enchanted to meet you, Miss Granger. It's not every day one meets a beautiful witch so interested in Arithmancy."

She blushed, and Draco chuckled inwardly to himself. Of course, if she knew who she was really talking to, she would have hexed him insensible and certainly never allowed him to kiss her hand.

Since she had no idea who he really was, it was quite easy to use the Malfoy charm on her. The real Steven Carmichael was a bumbling nerd who would have frozen up if a beautiful witch paid attention to him. Draco hoped Richard Beems wouldn't notice anything odd about Steven's suddenly bold character.

"I see you don't have a drink yet, Miss Granger. If Richard wouldn't mind, allow me to get you one." Draco smiled at Hermione.

"Of course! Of course!" Richard Beems exclaimed, good-naturedly. "You young ones enjoy your time. I see Arthur Weasley and need to talk to him about last night's Quidditch match, anyway." He winked at them and moved away.

Draco gently took Hermione's elbow and led her to the bar.

Over the next hour or so he stayed close to her. He made sure to engage enough with other witches and wizards at the ball so that she did not feel stifled by him, but he always made his way back to her. He invited her to sit with him at dinner and she accepted with a smile.

Through dinner they talked almost exclusively to each other, although there were eight others at their table.

Draco was surprised how easily conversation flowed between them. He had prepared himself by rehearsing various Steven Carmichael-like conversation topics, but he ended up needing very few.

Instead, Draco found himself answering her questions about the Hamptons and America with his own experiences at the Carmichael estate.

The Malfoy family also went far back with the Carmichael family, as the Carmichaels were a long line of Pureblood, well-off wizards like the Malfoys. However, Steven Carmichael Sr. did not share Lucius Malfoy's same views on Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, and the Carmichaels had never expressed interest in aligning themselves with Voldemort. As a consequence, the Malfoy family visits had waned over recent years.

At the time, Draco hadn't particularly minded, as Steven and he had never gotten along that well (he really was dreadfully boring). But as Draco recounted stories of his summer adventures there, he had a sad sense of nostalgia for a simpler time.

Draco had just finished telling Hermione a particularly humorous story about the time he'd fallen from a rogue Pegasus at the Carmichael stables, when the orchestra began playing traditional Christmas tunes. Couples left their tables to begin dancing.

Hermione was choking back laughter, when Draco smiled and held out his hand to her.

"Don't worry, I promise I dance better than I ride. Would you care to dance?"

Accepting his outstretched hand, Hermione laid her napkin down on the table.

"I suppose I can give it a go." She made a slight face. "Although I should warn you, I'm not very good."

"The great Hermione Granger, not good at something? I find that hard to believe!" He mocked her good-naturedly, more as himself than Steven, he realized too late.

Luckily, Hermione didn't find his statement odd, no doubt assuming Richard Beems and others at the party had been singing her praises to him all evening.

"Trust me," she said, laughing. "My dancing skills are only good compared to my broom-riding skills."

Draco laughed genuinely at this, recalling her first-year anger when her broom hadn't responded to the simple command of "Up!" Of course, he couldn't remind her of this, so he said nothing as he led her out to the floor.

He placed his right hand on the small of her back and gently took her right hand in his left. He was struck by how delicate she felt in his arms. However, he knew she was anything but, as a flash of her slapping him hard across the cheek in their third year came back to him. They slowly began swaying to the music.

This was no doubt the closest he had ever been to her, and Draco found it strange that it didn't feel unnatural to have her cheek next to his.

The orchestra was playing a slow, somewhat sad song that he vaguely recognized as being titled "I'll Be Home for Christmas." He didn't know any of the lyrics. Christmas carols hadn't been big in the Malfoy household.

Hermione exhaled slowly and said softly, "I love this song. It's so sad though."

He turned his head slightly to look into her eyes and, indeed, saw sadness there.

"Why is it sad? I don't really know it."

She sighed, and he spun her in time to the music.

"Well, it's not completely sad as it is tragic, I guess. The thought of being with the ones you love at Christmas in your dreams is a beautiful concept. But it's sad that it's  _only_  in your dreams and not reality. I guess I can relate to it a lot this year."

"Oh, and why's that?" He glanced at her quizzically and narrowed his eyes slightly. He expected her to say something about Weasley and how she loved him, but they couldn't be together due to him and Potter traipsing across the globe on secret missions. He remembered talk of her and the Weasel being romantically involved at school. The thought of it never bothered him before, but now, for some reason, it made him frown.

"Oh well, it's complicated," she replied, obviously realizing she was perhaps discussing something intimate with him. "Due to the impending war and the rise of Voldemort, I had to Obliviate my parents' memories and send them somewhere safe. I couldn't risk them being targeted by Death Eaters because of me." She glanced down sadly.

He swallowed hard and felt a twinge of pity for her. He had no idea she had done that. Although it made sense, because Voldemort  _had_  ordered for her parents to be targeted, no doubt hoping the brains of the Golden Trio would be too distressed to properly assist Potter if she were grieving her parents' deaths.

Luckily, no one had been able to locate them, and their England home had been vacant each time they had raided it. Draco had been along on one of the raids and had been ordered to kill them himself, if he were to encounter them.

This thought sobered him and reminded him of what he was really doing there. He took this to be an opening of how to get the information from her that he really wanted.

"You're good friends with Harry Potter, aren't you? I thought your name sounded familiar when Beems introduced you."

"Yes, we've been friends since our first year of Hogwarts." Her sad eyes met his again although she smiled. "I wouldn't trade my friendship with Harry for the world, but…" She bit her lower lip gently, as if feeling guilty for admitting it. "Being friends with Harry comes with risks."

She had no idea. In fact, it was for that reason she was in his arms right now, unwittingly dancing with her enemy and a marked Death Eater.

He continued to gently prod her for information, making sure to give her a sympathetic look as he did so.

"I can imagine. Where is Potter anyway? There hasn't been much about him in the papers recently. Almost seems like he's disappeared from the planet."

"Oh, well…" Her eyes left his and scanned the floor for a moment. He knew she was searching for the easiest way to answer his question without revealing too much information. "He's working on learning more about how to defeat Voldemort. As you can imagine, it's no easy task. Also, he has to keep his whereabouts secret to stay safe."

Her answer told him nothing he didn't already know, but it confirmed Draco's suspicions that she probably knew where he was. That was the information he needed.

"Do you see him much?" he asked.

"No, unfortunately, not as much as I'd like. My job here at the Ministry allows me to access an amazing number of records to help him in his research. Unfortunately, it doesn't allow me to travel with him, so sometimes we go for months without speaking."

That wasn't what Draco wanted to hear and he cursed internally. However, he could sense her discomfort growing from the conversation, and didn't want her suspecting his real reason for being interested in her this evening. He knew he had to change the subject and continue with the rest of his plan. He only hoped she knew where Potter was, so he wouldn't have to go through with all of it.

"Do you like to travel?" Draco asked to change the topic from Harry and get her back to her earlier comfort level.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically, and Draco smiled as her eyes lit up again. "But unfortunately, I haven't done half as much as I would have liked to for leisure. I only got my Apparition license recently, and I've never even been to the States."

Twirling her again, he replied, "Well, you'll have to come visit me sometime. I'd give you the grand tour."

"I'd like that."

From there, she asked him about places he had traveled and, once again, he answered her honestly with tales of his family trips to various exotic places.

They danced and talked for another hour, and just when Hermione finished telling him about the Muggle holiday traditions she would miss enjoying with her family that year, Draco felt the fifteen-minute Polyjuice Potion warning that he had incorporated into his potion tingle in his hand. It would be wearing off soon, and he couldn't risk anyone really seeing him.

Draco looked down at his watch.

"I really must be going. I have an early meeting in New York tomorrow." He looked back up at her. "But I'd love to see you again. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

Draco held his breath expectantly. Here is where he would find out if his plan would progress or not.

"I'd love that," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Wonderful!" Draco returned her smile as he led her off the dance floor and back to their table. "Should I pick you up at seven?"

"That sounds great." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small star-shaped token and handed it to him. Draco recognized it as one of the new measures in place to keep Floo networks safe. He had used a similar one that he had taken off of the real Steven Carmichael to Floo to the Ministry this evening.

"Here," she said. "You'll need this to Floo to my place. I have wards set up everywhere, so you won't be able to Apparate."

_I know,_ he thought bitterly.  _I wasted a week trying to get past them with no luck._

Draco took the token from her and let his hand linger on hers.

"Thank you for the delightful evening," he said. Then he surprised himself by adding, honestly, "It was one of the best I've had in a long time."

"Me too." She smiled.

At that moment Richard Beems strolled by, eyes twinkling with what looked like a little too much holiday liquor.

"Look at you two having a splendid time! And see, you're under the mistletoe!" He pointed up at the ceiling and winked at them as he walked away.

With Draco's hand still holding hers, Hermione and he both looked up, startled, then back at each other. She blushed slightly, but smiled, and held his gaze.

Draco cursed inwardly. This wasn't in his plan. Dancing with her and charming her to agree to a date with him while he was under Polyjuice Potion was one thing, but, for some reason, the thought of kissing her while in disguise as someone else seemed wrong.

_Oh, grow up!_ he scolded himself. It was an innocent kiss, not a marriage proposal. He couldn't very well  _not_ kiss her and risk her misinterpreting Draco-as-Steven's intentions, which he had worked so hard to establish all evening. What if she canceled their date?

With her hand still in his, Draco took a step closer to her and brought his other hand up to her cheek.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione Granger," he murmured, then closed his eyes and brought his lips gently down upon hers.

Draco was not expecting to feel anything significant. After all, he'd kissed many girls in his life, and this wasn't a passionate kiss, by any means. But as their lips met, he felt a strange sensation race through him. Draco stepped back and regarded her.

She opened her eyes and smiled.

Squeezing his hand gently, she said, "Happy Christmas, Steven…I'll see you tomorrow night."

With that, she let go of his hand and Flooed away, leaving him staring after her like a fool.

Draco shook his head, frowning.

_What was that?_

_Nothing_ , he reasoned,  _absolutely nothing_. He had just been thrown off because it wasn't part of the plan to kiss her under the stupid mistletoe. Christmas was a hazard.

He told himself that he had been under so much stress lately, that his mind was no doubt completely addled by doing something as normal as kissing a pretty girl.

_That's all,_ Draco decided and Flooed back to his safehouse to prepare for tomorrow evening.


	3. A Surprising Date

Draco Malfoy surveyed his living area one last time, making sure everything was in order. He had spent his whole day preparing for the next part of his plan, even though he hoped he wouldn't need to initiate it.

Picking up his wand, he threw his cloak on over the black button-down shirt and pants he wore.

No Polyjuice Potion tonight. He ran a nervous hand through his blond hair, which immediately fell back down across his forehead.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was ten to seven.

 _Now or never,_ he thought grimly.

Draco pulled out the Floo chip that Granger had given him the previous night and held it in his fingers. Then he placed his dark hood low over his face and walked to the fireplace. Throwing a handful of Floo powder, he raised his wand in a ready position.

He had a date with Hermione Granger and couldn't keep her waiting.

As the green smoke cleared from her fireplace, Draco quickly surveyed the living room of her flat. She wasn't in the room, so he stepped out and looked around.

Her wand and a small purse were sitting on a table next to the couch. He picked her wand up and stuck it into the pocket of his robes.

_That was easy._

He had been expecting to have to quickly disarm her when he arrived, or even stun her and search her for her wand.

"I'll be out in just a minute," Granger's voice called cheerfully to him down the hallway, muffled by a closed door. No doubt she was finishing getting ready for their "date."

"Take your time," he called back in his Steven Carmichael American accent.

Removing his hood, he looked around the room, surveying it more closely now that he had Granger's wand safely in his possession.

He saw a variety of pictures on her mantel and walls. Some moved and some didn't. He picked up one of the non-moving ones and looked at it closer. It showed a grinning Hermione from about fifth year, in between a tall, redheaded man and a petite woman with short brown hair who looked a lot like Hermione herself. Those must be her parents that he had been ordered to kill.

He put the picture back on the shelf and picked up another one of Granger, Potter, and Weasley smiling and waving. Hermione was in the middle and had one arm around each of the boys.

The picture looked like it was from second year, as he was reminded of the girl who had angered him so much by saying that his father had bought his way onto the Quidditch team.

Even though he no longer felt proud of his response of calling her a Mudblood, Draco still felt annoyed by her assumption. He had been a good Quidditch player, and he felt he had earned his spot on the team that year through countless hours of practice, regardless of his father's purchase of new brooms for the team.

He heard the click of a door open and footsteps coming down the hall.

"How was your meeting this morn—" Hermione began, then stopped with a gasp.

Draco turned around to face her, his wand drawn, and saw a look of absolute horror on her face.

She dropped what looked like delicate earrings from her hands, and they made a light tinkling sound as they hit the hardwood floor.

 _"You!"_  she exclaimed, accusingly, her wide eyes narrowing.

"Hello, Granger," he said with his lips curling into a smirk. "Did you miss me?"

* * *

Hermione heard someone come through her Floo just as she was slipping on her black boots. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 6:52 p.m. Steven was early. She liked that.

She called to him that she would be out shortly, and he replied for her to take her time.

She stood up and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror one last time. Tonight, she had on a simple, fitted black dress with a high-cut halter top. It was cut a few inches above her knee, and her high-heeled boots set it off well. She didn't know where they were going, but figured a black dress was a safe bet.

She had done her hair in loose flowing curls around her face, and kept her makeup understated and fresh.

Ginny had stopped by earlier that day and approved her outfit choice and, of course, questioned her mercilessly for details about Steven.

Hermione couldn't stop smiling as she told her friend about the amazing evening she had had with the charming American. Ginny had squealed in delight when Hermione got to the part about their kiss under the mistletoe.

"How romantic," her redhead friend had sighed. "Was it a good kiss?"

Remembering how her stomach had done somersaults, Hermione replied with a definite yes.

Hermione grabbed simple teardrop earrings to fasten as she walked out the door. She began asking Steven about his day, when the sight in front of her made her gasp.

There was a man standing in her living room with his back to her, but his hair was blond, not dark like Steven's, and he was quite a few inches taller.

The man heard her approach and turned towards her, wand drawn.

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat as she dropped the earrings she had been holding.

Draco Malfoy—arrogant bully, would-be Dumbledore assassin, and Death Eater—was standing in her living room.

" _You!"_ was all she could exclaim in breathless terror.

"Hello, Granger," he drawled with his signature Malfoy sneer. "Did you miss me?"

Hermione's mind raced back to the last time she had the misfortune of seeing him, the summer before seventh year. She, Ron, and Harry had been searching for Horcruxes and captured by Snatchers. The Snatchers had taken the three of them to Malfoy Manor, where Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco's deranged aunt.

Draco had been there and witnessed the whole thing. She remembered meeting his eyes at the time, mentally pleading that he would do something to help her.

She had held a small hope that he would, because moments earlier, he hadn't identified Harry to his father, even though she knew he recognized Harry.

But he hadn't helped her. Instead, he had stared back at her with cold, gray eyes. The same eyes that looked at her now.

Too dumbstruck to reply, her glance flew to the table where she had left her wand. Draco followed her gaze.

"It's not there," he said in a low voice, extracting her wand from his cloak and holding it up to her. "Really, Granger," he taunted, "you should be more careful with where you leave this. You don't want it falling into the wrong hands." He tucked her wand back into his inside cloak pocket.

Hermione swallowed hard and shot him an angry look.

"How did you get in here?" Her voice shook slightly but she tried to sound strong. "I have wards everywhere."

From the same pocket in his robe, he held out a small star-shaped token and walked menacingly toward her.

"Why, with this of course! Don't tell me you've forgotten our romantic evening together last night already?" He feigned injury in his voice. "I'm hurt, Granger, really!"

"Wha…how…that was you?" she gasped. "You…were Steven?" Her eyes fell and she looked crushed.

"Yes, it's amazing what a little Polyjuice Potion can do, isn't it?" He was standing directly in front of her now.

"The real Steven? Is he…" She looked up, fearfully.

"He's fine, Granger." He rolled his eyes at her. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering. No, he got a nice sleeping curse and some fake memories of a lovely, albeit uneventful, Christmas Ball."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Don't worry, I made sure to put you in those memories. After all, you did seem quite taken with him."

She glared at him but didn't move, as he was still pointing his wand in her direction. Draco went on.

"Although, I should warn you, Steven Carmichael is a terrible bore. You should be glad I came in his place. I promise you, I was much better company than he would have been."

He raised his eyebrows at her, grinning wickedly. "In fact, I'd say you were quite taken with  _me_. Couldn't resist the Malfoy charm, could you?"

She crossed her arms and scowled under his insolent gaze.

Suddenly, she felt very tired and weak, although she would never let him see that. She hated admitting to herself that his mocking was unnerving her. Mainly, because what he was saying was true.

She  _had_  enjoyed herself last night. She felt sick thinking about it now. How she had laughed and danced with him, and the whole time he had undoubtedly been mocking her, obviously planning something sinister.

She closed her eyes briefly in horror, as she remembered he had  _kissed_  her. Bringing her hand to her temple, she rubbed it, as if she could erase the memory that way, then said in an angry voice, "What do you  _want_ , Malfoy?"

"To talk with you, of course. As scintillating as our conversation was last night, I'm afraid I do have a few more questions for you." He gestured threateningly with his wand toward her couch. "Have a seat."

She thought about refusing him for a moment, but with no wand, she knew he could force her to comply. She made her way over to the couch and sat down, smoothing her dress underneath her, attempting to appear calm, although she felt anything but. Hugging her arms, she tried to remember what they had talked about last night.

In a panic, she remembered telling him about how she had hidden her parents. Had she told him where? No, she didn't think so. She let out a quick sigh of relief.

Then she remembered that he had asked her about Harry. Replaying the conversation in her head, she didn't think she had told him anything that could harm Harry or Ron. This realization gave her strength. She met his eyes defiantly.

"Look, Malfoy, you can torture me all you want, I'm not going to tell you anything! You may as well kill me now and get it over with."

He stood in front of her still holding his wand.

"Don't be so dramatic, Granger," he muttered, sounding annoyed. "I knew you'd behave this way."

_Immobulus!_

He shot the immobilizing charm at her before she had time to blink, and her body froze. Draco extracted a vial from his robes and sat beside her on the couch.

He took her face in his hands, tipped her head back, and poured the contents of the vial down her throat. When he seemed satisfied she had swallowed it, he stood up again and undid the spell.

She coughed, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shooting him a hateful look.

"What was that? What did you just make me drink?!" she sputtered.

"Relax, Granger, it was just a little Veritaserum. Truth serum is much more effective for my purposes than torturing the truth out of you."

Hermione clenched her fists, fighting back tears at the realization of what he'd just done and how many people could be hurt depending on what she told him.

"You're vile!"

"So I've been told," he replied darkly. "Let's get on with it, shall we?" Draco dragged a chair over from her dining table and turned it around so he could rest his arms across the top, sat down, and faced her.

"I'll start with some easy questions just to make sure it's working." He sneered. "Where were you last night?"

"At the Ministry of Magic's Christmas party."

"Very good. And who were you with?"

"You." She glared at him.

"And tell me, Granger, did you have a nice evening?" He smirked.

She gritted her teeth but was forced to answer honestly.

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy dancing with me?" He drummed his fingers across the top of the chair, obviously enjoying himself very much.

"Yes," she reluctantly admitted again.

"I thought so." His smirk grew wider. "And, tell me, did you enjoy kissing me?"

She shot daggers at him, biting down hard on her bottom lip to avoid answering.

"Well?" he prompted, clearly reveling in her discomfort.

"Yes!" she barked at him. "But I obviously didn't know it was you, you filthy, evil scumbag!"

"Tut-tut, that's no way to speak to the man who showed you such a nice time last night, now is it?"

Then his expression turned serious again.

"Now that we know it's working—tell me, where is Harry Potter?"

* * *

"I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully.

Draco cursed _._  He had been counting on her being able to answer that one. It would have made things so much easier.

"When did you see him last?"

"About a month ago."

"When did you last have any communication with him?"

"About two weeks ago." Draco could sense her relief that, so far, she didn't seem to have told him anything helpful yet.

"How did he contact you?"

"He sent an owl."

Draco was annoyed that she was keeping her answers as short as the potion would allow her to. He continued. "What did he ask of you?"

"To research something at the Ministry's library."

"What did he want you to research?"

"Horcruxes."

Draco's suspicions had been correct. Potter was searching for a Horcrux. And he knew whose.

"Is he searching for the Dark Lord's Horcrux?"

"Yes. All of them."

" _All_ of them?" Draco gasped. "It's possible to make more than one?" This was news to him, and her answer filled him with dread.

"Yes."

"Do you know how many the Dark Lord's made?"

"Six, we think."

He cursed again. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. It also meant that he needed Potter's help more than ever.

"Have any been found?"

"Yes." Hermione appeared to be getting more distressed with every answer. Draco noticed tears starting to form in her eyes, but she shook her head violently, blinking to stop them. No doubt she was horrified at the thought of crying in front of him, doing everything in her power to avoid it.

"How many? What were they? Were they destroyed?" He began firing questions at her more frantically, anxious to learn the truth, running an agitated hand through his hair.

"Three," she answered, the threatening tears replaced by a look of burning hatred. "Tom Riddle's diary, Marvelo Gaunt's ring, and Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. They were all destroyed."

Draco thought for a moment. If what she told him was true, that left three Horcruxes.

"Do you know what the remaining Horcruxes are?"

"We know Slytherin's locket is one. We suspect that Hufflepuff's cup is another, but we aren't sure about the other."

"Which one is Potter currently seeking?"

"The locket."

Draco thought for a moment but had no inkling as to where that could be or where Potter, in turn, might be.

"Can you get a message to Potter?"

"Yes," Hermione replied hoarsely, seeming fearful of what his next questions might be.

"How?"

"By a tracking charm with something of Harry's. Sending that out with an owl following it usually gets a message to him."

"Do you have anything of his here?" Draco looked around.

"Yes"

"What and where?"

"The book on the bookshelf,  _King Arthur."_ She pointed to the bookshelf.

Draco kept his wand trained on her as he scanned the shelf for the title. Blimey, she had a lot of books.

He located it in the third row and pulled it out. He opened the cover and saw an inscription and date.

_To Harry, on your 13_ _th_ _birthday. With love, Hermione._

She had given it to him. He pulled the book next to it down,  _The Princess Bride._  He opened it and saw that it had a similar inscription, but for his 14th birthday. He figured he should take two items to be safe.

He walked back to Hermione and shrank down the books and placed them inside his cloak pocket.

"Get up," he commanded her. She didn't move an inch, instead staying on the couch holding her head high and insolent.

Clearly, she was resolved to fight him every step of the way in his plan. Not that he had expected anything different.

Draco quickly stunned her, then grabbed her by the arms and roughly pulled her up.

To support her limp frame, he wrapped both arms around her back in an iron grip, pulling her close to him so she was pressed against his body.

"We're Disapperating," he warned, his lips close to her forehead.

With a loud  _pop!_ they left Hermione's living room together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying this story so far, please leave a quick comment. It will motivate me to post more often :)


	4. A Message for Harry

When they landed, Draco removed the stunning spell and pushed her away from him so roughly, Hermione stumbled backward. She steadied herself and looked around.

They were in a living room but it wasn't Malfoy Manor. It was much smaller and more modest than that, although not pitiful by any means. There was a fireplace in the corner, a couch behind her and a reclining chair facing it. She could make out stairs leading to a second story on the far side of the room, and, on the other side, the living area connected to a kitchen and dining room.

Although there was a fire in the fireplace warming the room, Hermione shivered.

 _Where am I?_  she wondered.

Was Voldemort here? Other Death Eaters? The house seemed quiet, but she was still fearful.

She could see that there were large windows around the house, but all the curtains were drawn so she couldn't see the landscape outside to help guess where she was.

Across from her, Draco was fiddling with his wand and a piece of parchment. She noticed the parchment was suspended in the air with a glowing light emitting from it. Draco strode over to her and pushed her down on the couch.

"Sit down," he barked. He seemed to be in a much fouler mood than he had been before she had answered his questions.

His attitude should have scared her, but instead it made her angry.

"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work! I don't care what you do to me, I'm not going to help you find Harry."

The next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Are you trying to track him down for Voldemort? What, are you his obedient little dog that he has fetch and carry for him?" She snapped vehemently, "Now that your father's dead, Voldemort sends you to do his dirty work? You're pathetic!"

Rage burning in his eyes, Draco grabbed her brusquely by the shoulder and growled, "Don't you dare talk about my father!"

He released her forcefully, then cast a binding spell on her. She squirmed and fought against it, to no avail. Invisible bonds wrapped around her legs and pinned her arms to her side, keeping her planted on the couch.

Draco turned his back on her and pushed up the sleeves on his shirt. Hermione gasped when she saw the Dark Mark on the pale skin of his left arm. Harry had told her Draco had it, so she shouldn't have been surprised. But seeing it for herself made it a reality.

"You really are one of them," she breathed quietly, transfixed by the evil skull-and-snake tattoo.

Draco glanced back at her with a glare but didn't say anything. Instead he shot his wand forward at the floating parchment.

_Recordio!_

"Harry Potter," he drawled at the parchment, and Hermione realized he was recording a message with it, like a video camera.

"You're a hard man to track down," Draco sneered. "But, never mind, I've found a way to make you come to me."

He took a step back and grabbed Hermione's chin with one hand, pressing his wand against her throat with the other. The pressure caused her to strain her neck up and backward.

"I have your precious little Granger as a houseguest and I'm prepared to let her stay the week. So far, she is unharmed and will remain so, as long as you meet me here. You better show up, Potter, otherwise I won't be inclined to keep your little bookworm safe."

The reality of what was happening sank in. Draco Malfoy had kidnapped her as bait to get Harry out in the open.

"Follow the instructions I've laid out below or you won't be getting her back in one piece."

He ran a dangerous finger along the side of her cheek, as if proving his point, and Hermione recoiled her neck away from him. She could see the Dark Mark on his forearm, horrifyingly close to her face.

No doubt, he wanted to be a hero to Voldemort by delivering Harry Potter to him by his own hands. Or, perhaps, Voldemort had put him up to it, much like he had ordered Draco to kill Dumbledore in their sixth year. Either way, Hermione was prepared to fight him.

"Don't listen to him, Harry!" Hermione screamed into the parchment. "Don't come here! He's nothing but a cowa—" Her words were cut off as Draco stepped back from her and sent a hex her way.

_Silencio!_

Hermione felt invisible hands wrap around her throat, closing it. She gasped for air but almost no sound came out. She squirmed as she fought against the spell, struggling to free her arms from their binds but couldn't. The next moment, Draco lifted the curse and she frantically sucked air back into her lungs.

As she gasped and coughed to refill her lungs with oxygen, Draco turned forward and said in a dark voice, "That's tame compared to what I'll do to her if you don't comply with my orders."

With that, he snapped the parchment shut and sealed it with various protection spells, so it could be read by only Harry. Then he muttered a tracking charm on one of the books he had taken from her house, and sent the parchment out the window with an owl.

When he was finished, he turned to Hermione and lifted the binding spell he had placed on her. Immediately, her hands flew to her throat. She continued coughing, although her frantic breathing had slowed considerably.

Draco walked into the kitchen and she heard the kitchen faucet running. When he returned he had a glass of water in his hands that he laid down roughly onto a table next to her. Some water sloshed out the top.

"Drink this," he commanded. "It's water."

He walked away from her until she could no longer see him in her blurry line of vision. She looked at the glass of water and took it in her hands, then smelled it, carefully. It certainly looked and smelled like water, but she did not raise the glass to her lips. She wasn't about to drink anything he was offering her.

Once her breathing settled, Hermione looked around the room to see Draco standing in the corner by the fireplace. He had his left arm stretched out, resting on the bricks, and was rubbing his eyes with his right hand. The way he leaned over made him look tired and broken.

Then he straightened up and pushed both sleeves of his shirt down, causing the Dark Mark to disappear from view. He turned to face Hermione.

"Get up," he said in a weary voice. "I'll show you to your room." He began walking towards her.

Gripping the glass in her hand, she scowled at his approaching form, rage burning through her entire being.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

His mouth set in a firm line, Draco reached down to grab her arm, preparing to pull her up.

That was her chance. Hermione sprang up and smashed the glass of water as hard as she could against his head. The glass exploded, and she felt shards impale the palm of her hand.

Draco exclaimed in pain and outrage, falling to the ground behind him, letting a string of obscenities fall from his lips.

Hermione saw blood gushing from his temple as she lunged forward to grab his wand with her uninjured hand.

She struggled to free his wand from his grasp. Still cursing, Draco shoved her back, retaining ahold of his wand. Hermione cried out in pain as her injured hand involuntarily hit the ground upon impact.

_Petrificus Totalus!_

Draco shot the spell at her before she had a chance to gain her bearings. She fell onto her back, unable to move anything but her eyes.

He came into view above her and Hermione was thankful the curse rendered her expression blank, so he couldn't see her fear. Certainly now he'd kill or torture her.

Wiping blood from his eyes, Draco sent her a murderous glare, then strode past her, furiously.

Hermione waited for the Unforgivable Curse he was sure to send her way. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, but nothing came.

After a few minutes her breathing slowed. She continued to wait, frozen, agonizingly wondering what would happen to her next.

* * *

Piercing pain shot through Draco's temple as he strode upstairs. Rage burned in his throat as he exclaimed more obscenities about her. "Miserable, crazy shrew," he muttered to finish.

Reaching the bathroom, he examined his injury in the mirror. It looked bad. The right side of his head was pouring blood and he could see shards of glass sticking to his scalp and hair.

Grimacing against the pain, he used his wand to extract the glass pieces from his skull. When he was satisfied he got them all, he cleaned the area, then cast a healing charm on the wound.

Rummaging in his medicine cabinet for a potion to ease his throbbing head, he frowned.

She had fire, he'd give her that.

He shook his head. She was also a bloody fool. He knew, and assumed she did too, that crossing a Death Eater the way she had would only end in one of three ways—torture, death, or, most likely, both. He was amazed that she had taken the risk.

Finding the remedy he needed, he drank the correct dosage and felt the pain lift.

She was clearly going to give him much more trouble than he had anticipated. What was he thinking, kidnapping Granger? Not only was she the most talented witch of her age, she was also the most hot-headed.

He should have gone for that Lovegood girl. She would have spent the entire time daydreaming and asking him if Nargles were bothering him. Or that coward Neville Longbottom. He would have been appropriately terrified and easy to push around.

He sighed. Even though he was tempted to, he couldn't leave Granger lying immobilized on the living room floor all evening. Although it was the least she deserved after attacking him so viciously.

Though he hated to admit it, there was a small part of him that admired her for her actions—they either made her incredibly stupid or incredibly brave. Since he knew she wasn't stupid, he found himself admiring her courage and tenacity. He had often wondered why she hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw with all the other brains. Clearly, she was braver than he had previously given her credit for, a Gryffindor to the core.

He couldn't help but wonder as he started back down the stairs, how his own life might have been different if he had been born with some of her fearlessness. Perhaps he wouldn't be a desperate man resorting to desperate measures now if he had.

* * *

Although her body was still immobilized, Hermione's mind was racing.

Where had Malfoy gone? Was he summoning Voldemort? Or another Death Eater to torture or kill her? It wouldn't surprise her. After all, he was a spoiled brat. He probably made others do his dirty work, to not sully his fancy clothes or mess up his perfect hair.

For some reason, the thought made her feel braver. Remembering the self-centered, arrogant coward she had known at school made him seem less frightening. After all, she, Harry, and Ron had bested him multiple times. She had even once managed to slap his pale, pointy face hard enough for his cheek to turn red.

 _But we aren't at Hogwarts anymore_ , she reminded herself. There, Draco Malfoy may have been nothing but a spineless bully, but what was he now?

Hermione recalled several disturbing articles she had read over the past few months about her former school nemesis. The  _Daily Prophet_  had proclaimed Draco Malfoy to be a growing threat—a rising Death Eater bent on destruction and evil.

Several sources had confirmed that Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was dead. The interesting part to the story was the claim that Draco had been the one to kill him, in order to prove himself to Voldemort and rise higher in his ranks. His own father had been too much of a threat to his growing power, so he had disposed of him.

Just how evil had Draco Malfoy become? Hermione tried to calm herself by reminding herself that much of what was printed in the  _Prophet_  was not credible, but if there was even an ounce of truth regarding the villainy of Draco Malfoy, she likely wouldn't live through the night.

It didn't matter, she decided. He may be ten times more despicable now, but she would still try to take him. At the very least, if he killed her, she would go down fighting.

With her eyes, she searched what part of the room she could see, in hopes of finding something she could use as a weapon against him. Her injured hand throbbed and she cursed on the inside, thinking how close she had come to stealing his wand.

She couldn't see much in her limited line of vision. Part of the fireplace was in her view, but there didn't seem to be any fire irons. No doubt Draco would have removed those before bringing her here. To her right, she saw the couch and, by it, a standing lamp. That could work.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stairs, coming closer. She was relieved to hear only one pair of steps. Draco was either alone or had sent someone else.

She sensed, rather than saw, Draco enter the room, striding towards her as he released her from the spell that had been holding her captive for so long.

The instant she could, Hermione struggled to her feet and lunged for the lamp. She grasped it and pulled, but it was planted firmly to the ground.

She swore under her breath. Draco must have foreseen that she could use the lamp as a weapon and charmed it so it could not be moved.

No doubt aware of what she was trying to do, Draco rushed towards her. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pushed her hard up against the wall, causing her to momentarily lose her breath.

She was facing him now, so she stared at him, resolving to make him look at her while he killed or tortured her.

"I'm only going to say this once, Granger," Draco snarled, holding her shoulder tightly with one hand, pressing his wand against her throat with his other.

" _Don't_ cross me again." Hermione sensed the unspoken,  _or else_ , contained in his look and tone. His eyes were flinty gray and his voice was venomous. "Consider yourself lucky to be getting this warning. I won't be so gracious next time,  _understand_?"

She glared at him, twisting to release herself from his hold. She raised her hand to strike him, but he caught both her wrists in an iron grip, pulling her towards him.

"Do you understand?" he asked again in a deadly voice.

Fresh pain shot through her injured hand, from Draco's tight grasp. As she glowered back at him, she realized she was, for the moment, bested. She wouldn't be getting away from him tonight, not without a wand. The malicious glint in his eyes sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

"Yes," she replied stiffly, barely a whisper.

At her words, he released her.

Hermione stepped back from him, grabbing her wounded hand, examining the damage. It shook slightly, and she saw a deep gash starting at the bottom of her index finger running down to her wrist. There was one large piece of glass protruding from the middle of her hand, with smaller pieces sprinkled throughout. Blood was still seeping from the wound.

Forgetting Draco was next to her, Hermione flinched when she felt his hand return to her wrist, much gentler this time, pulling her back to him. He drew a sharp breath in as he examined the damage.

"This needs to be healed," he said, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I don't need your help!" she shot back, starting to pull away.

"Yes, you do. Hold still!" He raised his wand as he spread her palm out with his hand.

Hermione watched him as he muttered a spell, smoothly lifting the shards of glass out of her hand. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain running from her hand up to her arm, causing her to lurch sideways, dizzy.

Draco raised a light hand to her arm to steady her, glancing at her face and frowning, before returning to his task. Hermione clenched her jaw, torn between hating the fact that he was helping her and feeling relief that her hand was being healed.

He muttered another spell and soft white light radiated from his wand, soothing her wound and turning it from a deep red cut to a slim pink line. When he was finished, Draco ran his thumb carefully along the mark on her palm, as if assessing his work. Then he curled her fingers over it, closing her hand gently.

"You'll live," he remarked, stepping away from her.

Hermione grabbed her freshly healed hand in her other, examining and rubbing it, as if she could remove the lingering feeling of his touch that way.

"Have you eaten?" Draco's voice interrupted her.

She hadn't, but the thought of food made her stomach turn.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, stonily.

"Suit yourself." Draco rubbed his eyes wearily. "Look, Granger, I'm exhausted and I'm sure you are too. There's a room for you upstairs. Follow me."

She crossed her arms. "And if I refuse?" The thought of venturing further into his lair did not appeal to her.

"I can Stupify you and carry you up there myself."

That thought appealed to her even less.

"Fine." She frowned, dropping her arms down by her sides. She had enough battles for one night. She needed sleep if she was going to even have a hope of getting away from him tomorrow.

He started up the stairs so, reluctantly, she followed.

"Meals will be at eight, noon, and five. If you want to eat, you better be in the kitchen at those times." He glanced back at her with a pointed look. "I'm not here to wait on you. You can sulk in your room all you want, but I don't want you eating in there. The last thing I need is mice."

She bit her tongue to keep from mocking him. What kind of Death Eater was afraid of mice?

They reached the top of the landing and Draco opened the door directly in front of him, walking inside.

"This will be your room. Since you won't have your wand, I tried to provide the necessities for you."

She looked around the room and saw a four-poster bed decked out in light blue, a dresser, a vanity and chair, a bedside table with a lamp, and a closet across the room. Draco pointed to the closet.

"There are clothes for you in there. I've enchanted them so they should fit you."

He strode across the room and opened another door.

"Bathroom," he said simply.

With that, he turned and walked back towards the entryway.

Hermione couldn't help but think that his curt instructions made her feel like she was visiting a bed and breakfast from hell.

"The windows are charmed shut, so don't get any grand ideas of escaping out them. Not that it would matter if you did, because the grounds are protected with an array of confining charms."

He grasped the door handle and prepared to leave the room.

"My room is across the hall. Your door will be locked every night." He smiled grimly at her. "I don't feel much like getting strangled by you in my sleep."

With that, he shut the door and she heard a lock click behind him.

Once it was shut and she was alone, she sank down on the bed. It was incredibly comfortable but that didn't cheer her. In fact, she felt absolutely miserable.

How had she gotten into this mess? And more importantly, how was she going to get out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so all so much for your comments so far! They encouraged me to post again sooner than I had planned. Keep them coming!


	5. The Plan

Much like he had the previous evening, Draco Malfoy stood above his bathroom sink and splashed cold water on his face. This time, the action did nothing to calm his nerves.

Had it really only been last night that he and Granger had laughed and danced together at the Ministry Christmas party? It felt like another lifetime.

He glanced at his tired reflection in the mirror. He looked as exhausted as he felt, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

He watched the water going down the drain, noticing it was tinged pink, from his own blood dried on his forehead mixed with Hermione’s, which had stained his hand as he healed her cut.

He frowned, recalling how after he healed her, he had noticed the large bloodstain on the carpet from her wound, when she had lain on the ground under the Body-Bind Curse. He had not known she had been injured when he left her down there. She looked like she had lost a lot of blood. 

The thought made him wonder if he should have forced her to eat something, or left a plate for her in her room, even though he had been serious about not wanting her to eat in there because of mice. The house had been infested with them when he had first arrived, and he didn’t want to add another extermination to his ever-growing list of problems.

His plan was not going as smoothly as he had hoped. All along, he had thought interrogating Granger at her flat would be as far as he would need to drag her into this. Bringing her here, holding her hostage to get to Potter—that had all been plan B.

Unfortunately, because she hadn’t been able to tell him anything about Potter’s whereabouts while under the effects of the Veritaserum, he had no choice but to resort to the second part of his plan. A plan which, he was finding out, was much messier.

He shook his head, recalling how threatening he had acted towards her. He knew it was wrong, but he felt she was much less likely to give him trouble if she thought he was dangerous. Although, clearly, that hadn’t even deterred her from trying to overpower him.

He raked a hand through his hair, then leaned with both hands over the sink, releasing a shaky breath. He hadn’t intended to be so cruel to her. It just came naturally.

Remembering the events that had transpired between them that evening, and especially how she had looked at him, with such loathing, reminded him of what they were.

_Enemies._

Draco stepped into the shower and let the hot, heavy stream of water ease the tension in his neck and wash the rest of the dried blood away.

Last night at the Christmas party, under the luxury of being disguised as someone else, he had found himself enjoying spending the evening with her. She was kind, witty, brave, charming, and beautiful. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he hadn’t had anyone to talk to in so long but, Merlin help him, he had _liked_ being with her.

He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. It was ridiculous. If he was going to spend the next week with her, he needed to guard himself against such absurd thoughts.

After all, even though he had found himself surprised to have enjoyed her company last night, her feelings towards him certainly hadn’t changed. Not that he could blame her for that. He had bullied her in school, played a large role in the death of her beloved headmaster, and had stood there and done nothing as his deranged aunt had tortured her in his family’s home.

Draco’s mind flashed back to that summer evening when the Golden Trio had been marched into Malfoy Manor by Snatchers. He remembered the dread that filled his heart, knowing what was in store for them, fearing he would be forced to take part in it. Even at that point in his life, Draco had begun to abhor Voldemort’s methods and the Death Eaters’ activities.

His father had demanded Draco properly identify Potter for who he was. Draco recognized Potter instantly, although a hex that he had been hit with by Granger made him almost unrecognizable.

But Draco had not identified him. Not so much out of protection for Potter, but for his desire that Voldemort not to be summoned so Draco wouldn’t be forced to act alongside him.

Then Bellatrix had flown into a rage over a sword they had with them, and the boys were moved to the dungeon, while Bellatrix used the Cruciatus curse on Hermione to try to get information out of her.

He could still hear Hermione’s tortured screams ringing in his ears. He had watched in horror, paralyzed, his mind unable to formulate a thought on what he could possibly do to help her and not get them both killed in the process.

Then Hermione had turned her tear-stained face towards him and their eyes had locked. He remembered how her desperate gaze had pleaded with his. Not because they were friends, but because he was a familiar face she knew from a world outside of the agony she was experiencing.

In her tortured eyes, Draco saw that he was her tiniest sliver of hope that the suffering she was enduring would end. But he had done nothing.

He was sure she hated him for it.

Then Potter and Weasley had appeared along with the Malfoy’s old house elf, and Granger had been saved. He remembered feeling relieved, but it was short-lived.

As awful as the occurrences had been while the trio was at the Manor, they were nothing compared to the horrible events that took place there after the three friends had escaped.

What had occurred when Voldemort arrived had shaken Draco to his core, causing the indoctrination he had been subjected to all his life to begin to crumble around him.

The events of that evening had brought him here, over a year later, to the house he was at now, concealed and guarded with every possible protection charm he knew. Clinging to a desperate, unlikely plan of survival.

Draco knew his safehouse was only going to remain safe for so long. It was possible the Dark Lord thought Draco had been killed or captured by the Order of the Phoenix, but, if he had even the slightest suspicion that Draco might betray him, Voldemort would stop at nothing to track him down and make him pay for his treachery.

Draco knew he was in a precarious situation—no longer loyal to Voldemort and his followers, but too tainted and untrustworthy to be accepted by Voldemort’s enemies.

Draco had the Dark Mark, even if he had taken it under duress. He had plotted in the assassination of Dumbledore, had assisted in Death Eater raids, and even used Unforgivable Curses. He was guilty of a number of crimes that could ensure him a life sentence in Azkaban. The thought was too horrible to imagine.

So, he planned to strike a deal with Potter, and only Potter, to give him the information he had regarding Voldemort to help Potter destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes. In exchange, he would make Potter vow to help him stay hidden from Voldemort, and advocate for him to receive no time in Azkaban.

He hoped that once he shared his story with Potter, Harry would agree to the terms and sign a binding contract. He knew that Potter was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord, and if that occurred, the Wizengamot would only be swayed by the “Chosen One’s” voice regarding Draco’s fate.

Although Granger was a highly respected witch, she didn’t have the kind of sway Potter had. It was Potter or no one. Granger was simply a way for him to get Harry to listen to him.

That was why Draco had brought her here, and why he had to keep a close eye on her to ensure that she didn’t escape or get ahold of a wand. Even though he had managed an inordinate number of confinement charms around the house, he knew she was clever. He could not underestimate her abilities.

So, he would keep her close the next few days but also watch himself, so he didn’t let his guard down. Hermione and he would never be friends. That much was clear. They just had to survive the next week together before Potter would get his message and arrive.

Draco reentered his bedroom and put on a pair of dark gray pajama pants. He draped his towel over his shoulder and walked to his enchanted safe in the corner. He removed Granger’s wand and the second book of Harry’s that he had taken from her bookshelf and placed them inside. Murmuring the enchantment code, he saw the lock click into place.

Draco threw his towel on a chair and slid in between the dark green sheets of his bed, turning out the light.

Sleep never came easy for him. His dreams were filled with nightmares of the things he had seen and done. He opened his bedside table drawer and pulled out a Dream-Blocking Draught and swallowed it. After today, he needed at least a few hours of restful sleep.


	6. Questions

_Hermione Granger was walking through a dark forest with Harry and Ron. She could feel a warm summer breeze blowing around her and she knew they would have to make camp soon, as twilight was fast approaching._

_Things hadn’t been easy the past few weeks. They were all tired, on edge, and scared. But she was happy they were alive and together._

_Suddenly she heard a popping sound behind her and voices._

Snatchers.

_What happened in the next few minutes was a blur._

_She was running faster than ever before in her life. Every few seconds, she would turn and cast a wayward spell behind her, toward the predatory footsteps closing in._

_Suddenly, rough hands caught her from behind and pulled her backwards._

_“Hello, beautiful,” a snarling voice whispered in her ear, sending a tremble of fear racing down her spine._

_She knew that voice. It belonged to Fenrir Greyback, a dangerous werewolf and ally to Voldemort. He leaned into her and breathed in her scent as she struggled to break away._

_Suddenly, Greyback was leading her up the steps to Malfoy Manor. She looked around, but Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen._

_What happened to them? Were they captured? Would they come for her?_

_Greyback pushed her roughly into the foyer of the Manor and she stumbled forward, falling onto the ground of the cold marble floor._

_She lifted her head and saw a shadow materialize from the dark corner of the room and make its way towards her._

_Draco Malfoy strode over to her with an arrogant swagger, dressed in his signature black pants, dress shirt, and jacket. He sneered at her menacingly._

_“So nice of you to join us this evening, Granger. But where are your friends? Didn’t Potter and Weasley want to join the fun?”_

_She heard cruel laughter echo in the room around her._

_She struggled to lift herself off the ground, but Malfoy raised his shiny black shoe and brutally pressed it down on her back. Her head smacked against the hard floor, causing her vision to swim._

_Draco knelt beside her and viciously pulled her head up by her hair, staring into her eyes._

_“Not so fast,” he snarled. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me where Potter is.”_

_Hermione stared defiantly into his cold gray eyes. Never could she remember seeing as much hate in them as she saw right now._

_“I’ll never tell you!” she spat back._

_He twisted his mouth into an evil grimace and released her hair, then kicked her so violently that she flipped over and now lay on her back._

_“Wrong answer.” His voice was low and dangerous as he pulled his wand on her._

Crucio!

_The pain that shot through her was unbearable as her screams tore through the air._

* * *

 

Draco shot up in bed, confused and blinking fast. Muffled screams filled his ears and tore him from the peaceful sleep he had needed so desperately.

He looked around his dark room, trying to place where the wretched sound was coming from.

Suddenly it hit him.

_Granger._

He detangled himself from the bedsheets and grabbed his wand in one quick movement, rushing towards the door.

By the sound of the agonized screams ringing in his ears, Voldemort must have tracked him down and begun torturing her in the next room.

His heart racing, Draco ran down the hall and said a quick unlocking spell before throwing open her door.

Filling the dark room with light, he was relieved to see there was no one there but Granger on the bed.

Her eyes were open, but glazed over, and she was thrashing violently. She looked to be in a trance. Her screams continued, and he soon realized what was happening.

She was having a horrible nightmare, not doubt a common occurrence for her, as it was for many who had endured the Cruciatus curse.

After failing to kill Dumbledore, Draco himself had many terrifying nightmares after the Dark Lord used the Cruciatus on him. Episodes as intense as the one he was seeing before him had gradually waned, and now his sleep was more often plagued by the things he had done, rather than the things he had suffered.

Her walked over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his wand in the pocket of his pajama pants and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently.

He knew waking her up likely wouldn’t end well, but he couldn’t bear to watch the agony on her face or hear her screams any longer.

“Granger, wake up. It’s just a dream.” He said the words firmly but calmly. “Can you hear me? It’s not real.”

Hermione’s body jerked forward and her screaming stopped. Instead she began breathing very fast and shallow, and her eyes searched frantically around the room, not focusing on anything.

Draco frowned. She seemed to be awake but having a panic attack.

He grabbed one of her hands and gently placed it on his own chest. Then he took her face between both his hands and brought it close to his, so he was looking right at her.

“Breathe, Granger,” he directed her gently. He took deep breaths of his own, so she could feel his chest slowly rise and fall. “Breathe with me. It’s alright. It was just a dream.” Draco said the words in time with his breathing.

His guidance seemed to work, as her gasping breaths turned to steady ragged ones. She slowly began to focus, and Draco found himself staring directly into her soft brown eyes.

“Good. That’s it.” He prompted, “Look at me. Breathe slowly.”

Hermione gazed at him but still didn’t seem to really see him. She seemed so lost and confused, Draco felt a sudden urge to take her into his arms and hold her. But he fought it. He was already crossing a line as it was by being this close to her. Without realizing it, he began massaging her temple gently with his thumb, continuing to try to calm her.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

* * *

Hermione’s head swam with the horrible images and sensations of her dream. She realized now that’s what it was, but she wasn’t completely sure that she was out of it yet.

She could hear a faraway voice speaking to her gently, coaxing her back to reality. She recognized it but couldn’t place who it belonged to.

The images she had seen in her nightmare flashed before her eyes. Beyond them, she made out a fuzzy figure sitting close to her. The owner of the gentle voice, she assumed.

The nightmare had been one of her worst and most vivid yet. Usually Bellatrix, or even Voldemort, was the tormentor in her dreams, but tonight, a new sinister character had shown up. Draco Malfoy.

She shivered as she remembered the hate and darkness she had seen in his hard, gray eyes. Over all the years she had seen his disgust, anger, and arrogance reflected back at her in them, they had never once looked as awful as they had in her dream.

_Just a dream._

The kind voice speaking to her had said it and now she repeated it to herself. Her breathing slowed, and she felt the sensation of her hand rising and falling on someone’s chest. Against her palm, she could also feel the steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat.

_Whose?_ she wondered. She looked down at her fingers and blinked several times until her vision cleared. She saw her own thin hand nestled on the pale skin of a strong chest.  She noticed several long thin scars snaking down his torso and up to his neck.

“Feel better?” the voice asked her kindly.

Now that she could see clearer, she raised her eyes to her companion’s face and was met by concerned gray eyes.

Like the voice she had heard, the eyes looked familiar to her, but new enough that she couldn’t place them. She gazed into them for a few seconds, confused, then blinked.

When she opened her eyes again, she recognized them. In that moment, they morphed in her mind from the kind ones she was seeing, to the evil ones she had seen in her nightmare.

They were _his_ eyes.

She shifted her gaze to take in his whole face, then his scar-covered chest, and back to the ugly Dark Mark on his left forearm, so close to her face. Terror filled her body and overflowed. She shrieked loudly and pushed him away from her as hard as she could.

Draco stumbled backwards, and his back connected to the hard wood of the chair from the vanity by the bed.

He cursed in surprise, reaching behind to steady himself against the chair.

What was Draco Malfoy doing in her bedroom? Hermione faltered off the other side of the bed, then realized this was not her bedroom at all.

The earlier events of the evening rushed back to her and she raged at him.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “Get out of here!!!”

She continued to back up, hoping to put as much distance between them until her back hit a wall.

Draco regained his balance and took a small step towards her. “Calm down. Let me ex—”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” She screamed at him even louder now and pointed to the door with a shaky hand. “LEAVE!!!”

He hesitated, then swallowed and held his hands up, as if in a truce. He backed away from her. Then turned and walked out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Hermione stared at the closed door for a few moments, before collapsing into a heap on the floor. She hugged her knees into her chest as tears began streaming down her face.

She hated him. She hated him with every fiber of her being. How dare he try to comfort her? He had tricked her, kidnapped her, and was using her to try to hurt her friends.

_He’s pure evil,_ she told herself, sobbing harder now.

As she sat there with tears flowing down her cheeks, anger burning through her, an uncomfortable thought pushed into the back of her mind.

_Why did he try to comfort me?_

It didn’t make any sense. She had no doubt that he had heard her screaming in her sleep, but why had he cared? Even if he thought she was really being hurt, why would that matter to him?

And once he had realized she was having a nightmare, why had he tried to coax her out of it and calm her down? The Draco Malfoy she knew would have laughed at her being terrified of something as simple as her own dreams. He would have called her a fool and mocked her.

_It doesn’t make any sense_ , she repeated to herself as she wiped tears from her eyes.

Then, even more disturbing thoughts entered he mind.

How had she allowed herself to be comforted by him? Why had his breathing, steady against her hand, been able to calm her down? Why had the feeling of his heart beating against her hand given her strength? Why had his eyes seemed kind and gentle and grounded her when her tortured mind was racing?

Hermione laid her head on her knees and tried to ignore those questions. She had no answers for them. And it scared her.

* * *

Draco closed the door quietly behind him, then sank down to the ground and rested the back of his head against it.

What had he been thinking, going in there? Of course she would react like that.

But he knew exactly why he had tried to calm her.

The screams he had heard a few moments earlier were the same ones he had heard a year and a half ago when she was being tortured in his home. They were the same screams that he sometimes heard at night in his dreams.

Like her, he had reoccurring nightmares about the events of that evening. They mainly centered on her merciless torture at the hands of his aunt and what had occurred afterwards. In these dreams, he always tried to change the outcome of that evening, but he was never able to. Sometimes his feet were stuck to the floor, sometimes he could only move slowly, sometimes he was blinded, sometimes he was tortured too.

He knew that he had tried to calm her tonight because he couldn’t bear to stand by and hear her in agony all over again.

He rested his head in his hands as he heard her muffled sobs coming from behind the closed door. It caused his heart to ache.

Why did he feel that way? Why did he still want to comfort her? Why had he felt an overwhelming urge to cradle her in his arms after she woke from the nightmare, and hold her until her fear had subsided? Why did he feel the exact same urge now that he heard her crying behind the door?

It didn’t make any sense. He had never felt any protective inclinations towards her before, in all the years he’d known her. Why now?

He didn’t know the answer, but the questions scared him.

He stayed outside her door for a long time, until he heard her sobs dwindle. After they stopped completely, he waited another few minutes to make sure they didn’t start up again, before dragging himself back to his own room for restless sleep.

 


	7. Good Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudo's guys! Glad you are enjoying the story. Don't be shy about leaving a comment! Reading them makes my heart happy :)

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling even more exhausted than when she had fallen asleep. She hadn't woken to an alarm, which made her worry that she had overslept and was late for work. She reached for her wand on her bedside table, but it wasn't there.

She shot up in bed when she realized she wasn't in her room.

She blinked and looked around, wondering where she was. Then events from the previous night came rushing back to her and filled her with dread.

She wasn't going to be going to work at all today because Draco Malfoy had taken her prisoner.

She looked at the clock on her bedside table and saw that the time was 7:25 a.m. She recalled Malfoy telling her that he'd have breakfast ready at 8 a.m. if she wanted to eat.

Having no desire to see him today or ever, she made a silent resolution to skip breakfast and stay in bed as long as possible. However, her stomach growled in protest and she remembered she hadn't eaten dinner last night.

Instead of a lovely dinner with what she had thought would be a new and exciting date, she had gotten a night of terror at the hands of a Death Eater.

She recalled her nightmare and the even more unpleasant events that had followed it. Malfoy had come into her room and tried to comfort her. Not just tried, she admitted begrudgingly, he had succeeded. The memory of his hands on her, her own fingers on his bare chest, and his gentle voice soothing her, filled her with fury and embarrassment.

It wasn't right. She hated that he had seen her like that. So distraught and weak. And more importantly, she hated that he had the audacity to try to help her. She didn't want his help. She didn't want anything from him.

If it wasn't for the fact that she needed to attempt to escape to save Harry, she would have resigned herself to staying in the room for the entire time she was there, just to avoid seeing Malfoy again.

But she couldn't allow herself that luxury. If Harry got Draco's message, he would surely come to help her, putting himself in great danger. Hermione couldn't let that happen. She needed to find a way out before Harry arrived.

That thought, as well as another loud growl of her stomach, caused her to swing her legs out of bed and walk towards the closet.

As much as she despised the idea of seeing Draco Malfoy this morning, she knew she needed to eat and keep her strength up, especially if she was going to find her way out of this prison he had her in.

She had been so distraught last night, she had removed her boots and fallen asleep in the dress she had been wearing. Now it felt grubby and uncomfortable. She needed a shower and change of clothes.

She remembered Draco telling her that there were clothes for her in the closet and, although she hated the thought of wearing anything he provided for her, she knew she couldn't spend the next week in her black dress.

Opening the closet, she was surprised to find a large array of very nice Muggle clothing. There was a variety of shirts, jumpers, slacks, jeans, skirts, dresses, and shoes. They all looked expensive.

She grabbed a navy and white striped top, a pair of jeans, and red ballet flats and shut the door.

Then she went to the dresser and opened the top drawer to find a small selection of silk nightgowns folded up. She pulled one out and gawked at it. It was light turquoise and the softest thing she had ever touched. It had thin spaghetti straps and looked like it would fall just at her ankles. It was beautiful but not at all something she would normally wear to bed.

She stuffed it back in the drawer and opened the next one, hoping to find some cotton t-shirts and pajama pants, which was what she normally slept in, and instead found a selection of tasteful yet elegant bras and panties. She grabbed a set roughly then slammed the drawer shut.

She felt her face flush at the thought of Draco Malfoy picking out these things for her, and she fumed inwardly at him for putting her in this situation.

She opened the next drawer to find an array of socks, winter hats, gloves and scarves. The remaining drawers were empty.

She grabbed all the clothes she had selected and stomped her way to the bathroom. When she turned on the light, she was greeted by a welcoming spa-like bathroom.

The walls were painted a delicate sea-glass blue, and there were sand-colored tiles on the floor and shower walls. The white towels looked just about the richest and softest she had ever seen.

Across from the shower was a large vanity with a silk bench underneath it. The vanity contained drawers and cabinets, and she opened them up to find a variety of cosmetics, soaps, bath salts, and hair products. She picked up a small container and read the label to see what it was. Eye cream.

Why on earth would Draco Malfoy think she needed eye cream while she was here? Had that been his clever way of insulting her, implying that she looked old and haggard? She was not amused and threw it back in the drawer, shutting it with a bang.

In the next drawer, there was a blow dryer, hair brush, a variety of combs, hair clips, pins, hairbands, and a curling iron. She shut the drawer and rolled her eyes. This was more stuff than she could ever possibly need. It was clear she wouldn't exactly be roughing it here for the duration of her imprisonment.

She turned on the shower and removed her dress hastily before getting in. Although she had turned the lock on the bathroom door, she knew that if Malfoy decided to come in, he would be able to.

The thought caused her to shower hurriedly, even though she would have liked to have lingered and enjoyed the rich soap and shampoo that she had found inside.

After drying herself and dressing, she regarded her knotted, wet hair and searched the drawer on her right for a comb to detangle it. She found one and ran it through her hair, but it soon stopped short.

Her wild hair was even more of a difficult mess than usual. She begrudgingly opened the vanity cabinet in search of a detangling spray to help loosen the knots. If she didn't deal with this now, her hair would become so unruly she'd need to cut the snarls out. Not very convenient since Malfoy obviously wouldn't let her near a pair of scissors, knowing she'd use them to stab him with.

She let herself entertain that pleasant thought for a moment as she searched for something to help her painfully tangled hair, to no avail.

Slamming the cupboard door shut, she went back to attacking her hair with the comb, her eyes watering as she violently tore through the knots. Of course, Malfoy wouldn't provide her with what she actually needed. No, better to give her useless makeup and eye cream, as if she was going to be primping about like an idiot while her life was in danger.

Hermione had just begun to indulge in a particularly violent daydream of beating Malfoy to death with a curling iron, when, amazingly, a bottle appeared before her eyes on the sink counter.

Hermione stared at it for a few seconds, then picked it up. Hair detangler. She spritzed a bit into her hair, worked it through, and felt the knots loosen.

She pondered where the bottle had come from as she relaxed and combed through the rest of her tangles, in turn calming the headache that had been building up at the base of her skull. Had Malfoy read her mind somehow and sent it to her?

She shook her head. That didn't make any sense. For one thing, she didn't know how he would be able to accomplish Legilimency without being in the same room as her, and for another, why on earth would he trouble himself to by helping her with such a minor problem?

Before too long, she finished working and scrunched her curls with her towel a few times to help dry them, then hung the towel back on the rack.

Her lips did feel dry and cracked, so she found a clear lip balm and spread it over them.

Glancing in the mirror, she thought she looked less downtrodden, although still tired. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she felt that she saw some of the familiar spark back in them, causing her to feel more prepared to handle the troublesome day she was bound to have.

Having no more reason to avoid the inevitable, she begrudgingly made her way downstairs, bracing herself for what would no doubt be a very unpleasant day.

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood that morning, having barely slept after Granger had yelled at him last night.

He scowled and stirred a frying pan of eggs with his wand, then flicked it toward the toaster on the counter to make toast. In another pan, he controlled the temperature of the sausages he was cooking so they wouldn't burn.

His safehouse was nothing more than an old abandoned Muggle house hidden in a thick, dark forest. He had come across it by luck after he had been hiding out in the woods for a few weeks, when he had first disappeared.

There were no other houses around for miles, making it an ideal location for him to stay unseen. He had used magic to fix it up and make it livable, using as many protection and concealment charms as he knew to keep it hidden from the outside world.

Living there was much better than camping in the woods, but he had to admit that there were times when he missed the luxuries of the Manor. Especially the house elves who had prepared meals for him his whole life.

Draco had taught himself some basics, but his cooking left a lot to be desired.

He placed some fresh fruit on a cutting board and began slicing it with his wand. Before bringing Granger here, he had the foresight to remove all knives from the kitchen. Clearly, that hadn't been enough precaution for bringing a frenzied, foul-tempered witch into his house. The first thing he had done this morning was transfigure all the glass and ceramic dishware into plastic, so she couldn't maim him with any more of his dishes.

He'd even taken care to change the cutlery to plastic, grimacing as he envisioned her gouging his eyes out with a metal spoon. He knew she'd have no hesitation in doing just that, given the chance. She certainly hated him. That much was clear after her outburst in her room when she awoke from her nightmare.

Even though he knew Hermione had a right to be furious with him, the arrogant part of him felt slighted and angered by how she had screamed at him last night. He also felt a large bruise smarting on his back from when she had shoved him so violently that he'd hit the wooden desk chair.

He had only been trying to help her. In fact, he  _had_ helped her. Who knew how long her nightmare would have continued if he hadn't woken her up?

He rubbed his tired eyes and poured himself a strong cup of coffee, then served himself a plate of food.

_It's going to be a long day._

Draco sat down heavily at the kitchen table to eat and opened the copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  he had managed to snag yesterday when he was out buying food and supplies.

He scanned the front page for any news on Potter or Voldemort, although he knew much of what was printed there recently wasn't even true.

A few weeks ago, there had been an article about Draco himself, stating that he had been the one to murder his father, so he could climb higher in the ranks of Voldemort's army. What nonsense.

He suspected that Voldemort himself may have been responsible for that and other stories circulating, to put Draco back on the Ministry's radar so they might track him down, saving Voldemort the trouble.

Draco remembered his rage when he had read it. It certainly wouldn't help his case if Potter had seen it, which Draco suspected he would have.

He heard footsteps behind him and, from his side view, saw Granger enter the room. He glanced at her, noticing she had changed her clothing, and her curly hair looked damp from a shower. She wore a boat neck striped cotton shirt and fitted jeans that suited her petite frame nicely. At least it seemed like the enchantment he had placed on the clothing worked.

Yesterday he had felt at a complete loss trying to pick out clothing, cosmetics, and other necessities for her. It was bad enough he had to shop mainly at Muggle stores, to avoid being seen in the wizarding community. Trying to pick out items for a woman he didn't know, or even like, had been a challenge.

Gazing at rows and rows of bottles of Muggle toiletries had been baffling to say the least. He didn't even know what purpose half of them served. Eye cream? What was that for? Did it keep your eyes from getting sore if you read too much? Well, he knew Granger was a bookworm, so he threw it in the cart.

In the end, he had gotten way too much stuff, and even set up a magical charm to connect to the Muggle store to automatically purchase and provide her with things she might want. He figured it was better than dealing with her wrath if he didn't have something she needed.

Draco smirked to himself over the fact that she was wearing the clothes he had bought for her. He had half expected her to spend all week in her black dress and heels on principle.

"Good morning," he said to her flatly, mainly because he knew she would find it annoying, since it certainly was not a good morning for either of them.

Hermione glared at him but said nothing. Draco went back to reading the  _Daily Prophet_  and eating his breakfast. After a moment, he glanced up at her, raising his eyebrows, and motioned towards the food being kept warm on the stove.

"Help yourself."

Hermione turned from him, picking a plate off the counter and beginning to fill it with food. As she did, she looked out the window and saw a beautiful snow-covered courtyard. It must have snowed last night, because the many trees that encircled it were covered in a light draping of fresh snow.

There was a large diamond-encrusted pine tree in the middle and, under that, a rustic bench. The snow sparkled in the sun and she exclaimed softly.

"It's beautiful."

Draco's eyebrows shot up again, but this time in surprise that she had actually spoken to him. He looked up and saw her gazing out the large window that rested above the kitchen's stove and counter.

Her back was almost completely turned to him, and the look on her face made him realize she had probably forgotten he was there.

His suspicion was confirmed when he answered and Hermione flinched.

"Yes, it is, although it's a bit dull to look at after a while. I'd personally rather be on a beach somewhere."

She didn't respond, just shifted her feet uncomfortably, no doubt remembering who she had spoken to. Draco continued.

"You're welcome to go outside, if you want. Just know that there are powerful containment charms placed around the parameter of the grounds." He added what he hoped sounded like a sinister warning. "I wouldn't get any ideas on crossing them, if you know what's good for you."

Hermione filled a cup of coffee and glanced at him, no doubt surprised he would let her leave the house. He wasn't worried, as he was very confident in the spells he had placed outside.

She just shrugged her shoulders, most likely to not seem too excited about this new information. Draco could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. He knew she was thinking that protection and confinement charms had to be cast very carefully to make them a hundred percent effective.

Draco expected her to eat her food at the kitchen counter, or maybe even ignore his command that she not eat in her room and take her plate upstairs. Part of the reason he had said that was to make sure she did actually eat while she was staying there. After all, he wouldn't put it past her to starve herself just to avoid eating food he had made.

Instead, Hermione sat down with a large plate of food at the seat farthest away from him at the table, which also happened to be across from him. He glanced at her, surprised, but said nothing.

A few minutes went by in awkward silence as they both ate. Draco looked up at her again and saw her making a face as she looked down at her plate.

"Something wrong?" He eyed her critically.

She glanced at him, then shifted her eyes away from his gaze and stirred her eggs.

"Um, well, it's a bit bland."

"Sorry my cooking doesn't meet your high standards, Granger," he drawled. "Believe it or not, I'm not running a French restaurant here."

" _You_ cooked this?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Granger, I'm not a complete idiot. I can cook eggs myself."

"Oh…I just assumed you'd think it's above you." She went on, bitingly, "How did you even learn? Haven't you had house elves waiting on you your whole life?"

Draco scowled. Merlin, she was annoying.

"Yes, well, as you can see, I'm not at the Manor now so I had to learn a few new skills." He baited her. "I did manage to make top of the class in Potions at Hogwarts, so I think I can manage a little cooking."

He wouldn't admit to her the number of egg explosions he had caused before learning how to make a half-decent plate of scrambled eggs.

" _Second_  top of the class," she corrected him then continued icily. "Yes, it's amazing you had time to focus on your schoolwork at all, considering you were so busy plotting Dumbledore's murder."

"You know, Granger," Draco replied through clenched teeth, "if you expect to eat at all while you're here, I would suggest you focus more on your breakfast and less on running your know-it-all mouth."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but boldly held his stare.

"Your eggs could use some salt, Malfoy."

At that, a salt shaker materialized in front of her at the table and she gawked at it.

"Why does that keep happening?" she asked, incredulously.

"A simple charm I cast," Draco replied smugly. "So the house will provide you with things you need while you're here."

"The house?"

"Yes, within reason. But don't get any big ideas on asking it to give you a wand, or a knife to stab me with. I've made sure that won't happen."

"Pity," she retorted.

Draco folded his paper and got up with his plate.

"As much as I would love to stay and chat with you all day, I have things to do."

He cleaned his dishes with his wand then placed them back in the cupboards and continued.

"Do clean up after yourself when you're finished, Granger," he sneered at her. "As you so kindly pointed out, I don't have a house elf at the moment and I have no intention of becoming yours."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

* * *

Hermione was glad to be rid of him and sprinkled some salt on her eggs. She mentally asked for some pepper too, and a matching shaker appeared before her at the table.

She was curious what charm Draco had used to make things appear for her, just by her thinking about them. It wasn't any spell she knew, but she didn't want to admit that to him and ask.

Even though she felt foolish and didn't expect it to work, she did think to herself,  _I'd like a wand, please._

Nothing happened, just as Malfoy had said, and she sighed.

However, she cheered slightly as she thought back on his earlier words, about how she was able to go outside. She knew confinement charms were very complicated magic. After all, she had cast enough of them during her time hiding out with Ron and Harry. As soon as she finished eating, she would explore the grounds carefully to test what she was dealing with.

That comment had caused her to change her mind about eating in her room and instead sit at the table with Draco. As much as she hated being in his presence, the more she conversed with him, the more likely he would let something slip that could be helpful to her. Even though she'd rather avoid him, she reluctantly resolved to eat as many meals with Malfoy as she could, on the chance she could learn something that would help her escape.

And maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get to see him choke to death on his own tasteless cooking.

When she finished eating she brought her dishes to the sink and dropped them in. She saw dish soap sitting on the counter but ignored it, not even bothering to rinse her plate.

He was the one keeping her here, let him clean up after her.


	8. No Better Than Me

Draco sat at his desk in the library poring over several books on Dark Magic, trying to find more information about Horcruxes.

He rubbed his weary eyes, because, so far, he hadn't found much that was helpful.

He was also so tired he was having a hard time concentrating.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was approaching eleven-thirty. He closed the book in front of him with a sigh and pushed his chair back from the desk.

Time for him to fix lunch anyway. Maybe he'd be able to focus better after he ate and had another cup of coffee.

As he made his way towards the kitchen, he had half a mind to only prepare enough food for himself. Since his cooking was apparently so far beneath Granger's standards, she should just fend for herself.

The thought cheered him slightly, but he still set to work assembling grilled cheese sandwiches for two and heated a can of tomato soup to go along with them. He also brewed another strong pot of coffee.

As Draco worked, he looked out the kitchen window and saw Hermione outside wrapped in a long cloak. She was very carefully walking the perimeter of the grounds. Every few paces she would walk into the barrier of the confinement charm, only to have it rudely shove her backward.

Draco chuckled to himself as he saw the haughty look on her face every time the spell pushed her away. He wondered how long it had taken her to realize that the barrier he used was not dangerous like he had implied. He had made sure to cast a blockade that would only push her back, not injure her.

On the outside of the barrier, he had been much more careful to use a spell that would hurt anyone who got too aggressive trying to enter.

It certainly was entertaining watching her stomp around in the snow and shake her fist at the invisible barricade. At one point she came at it so aggressively, it pushed her harder and caused her to fall onto her back in the snow. He laughed out loud.

Brightest witch of her age or not, Draco knew she would not find any way to get past the barrier he had set up. At least not without a wand.

That's why he hadn't been concerned about her going outside. However, to be safe, he had enacted a warning charm that would alert him if she ever left the confines of the grounds and entered the dark forest. It was as much for her safety as his own.

Draco flipped the sandwiches and glanced outside again. He was surprised to see that she seemed to have given up on the barrier for the time being, and had seated herself on the old bench that sat next to the large pine tree in the yard.

It had begun snowing lightly and Hermione lifted her face towards the sky. She reached her arms out in front of her and turned her palms up, a small smile spreading across her face.

Draco couldn't help but stare at her. She looked like she could be in her own personal snow globe, much like the ones his mother had put around the house at Christmastime when he was young.

Soft white flakes stuck to her rich brown curls and, every so often, her eyelids fluttered against the falling snow.

She looked beautiful. The thought struck him out of nowhere and disturbed him slightly, but he didn't look away. He wondered what it would feel like to brush the snowflakes out of her soft hair, or off her flushed cheeks.

He shook his head. What a ridiculous thought. It would feel like getting slapped in the face by a furious Granger if he ever dared try, recalling again, the time she had struck him in third year over that beastly hippogriff.

The smell of burning food brought him back to his senses, and he cursed as he saw one side of the grilled cheese sandwiches had been burned black. He flipped them over and then did a quick reversal spell on them with his wand.

For someone who had bragged about his cooking skills being as great as his potion skills, he wasn't doing a very good job preparing this meal.

But then again, he hadn't spent Potions class staring at Granger, wondering what it would feel like to touch her hair and cheeks.

* * *

Coming in from outside, Hermione stomped the snow off her boots in the doorway of the kitchen. Her cheeks felt frozen and the warmth indoors was a welcome change.

However, the fresh air had been stimulating and she felt somewhat revitalized after being out in the new snowfall. She bent down to remove her boots, then her coat, gloves, scarf, and hat.

She was disappointed that she hadn't been able to find any break in the barrier. She must have circled the entire grounds three times with no luck. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that Draco was indeed a very skilled wizard, to successfully secure such a large area so well. It was also a humbling reminder that she should be careful not to cross him.

She looked further inside the doorway of the kitchen and saw Draco standing over the stove, cooking. She could smell burned food, which didn't bode well for lunch.

He sensed her presence and turned towards her.

"Finished already?" He flashed her a wicked grin. "Too bad. I was enjoying seeing you lose your fight with an invisible fence."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, annoyed to hear that he had been watching her.

"Yes, well, I smelled so much smoke from your cooking, I thought perhaps I should see if the house had started on fire."

"Oh, and you rushed to come to my aid? I'm touched, Granger, really."

She rolled her eyes. "More like I didn't want to miss seeing you burn to death in an inferno."

"Tsk, tsk, Granger, where's that Gryffindor compassion you're supposedly so famous for?" He slid sandwiches on two plates, followed by steaming bowls of soup.

She crossed her arms. "Must be at home waiting for me with the rest of my life."

Draco held a plate out to her, which she took. In her effort to avoid spilling the soup, her hand brushed against his and she jerked it back. He obviously noticed, raising an amused eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

They both sat at the table in silence for a few moments. Hermione tried the food and was surprised that it was actually quite good. The burning she had smelled must have been from a first attempt.

After a while, Hermione broke the quiet with a question she was almost too scared to ask.

"What are you going to do to Harry when he comes here?"

Draco looked up from his meal, seemingly astonished by her initiation of conversation.

"Would you believe me if I said I just want to talk to him?"

"No," she replied flatly.

"So why even bother to ask then, if you already know the answer?"

Hermione was silent for a moment then went on, giving him a small benefit of the doubt.

"What do you want to talk to him about?"

"That's none of your business," Draco said in a menacing tone, hoping she would leave it alone.

But, of course, she didn't.

"It must be pretty important if you went to all this trouble." She waved one of her hands. "And I would say that it _is_ my business since you dragged me into it."

"Look, Granger." He sighed. "Don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked haughtily.

Draco slammed a hand down on the table.

"It means you've obviously already made your mind up about me, so there's no reason for me to try to justify myself to you. It's not like you'd listen anyway."

"I know what you're planning. You're going to hand Harry over to him, aren't you?" Her voice rose frantically. "Well, I'm not going to let you. I will find a way to stop you, even if you kill me in the process."

"I already told you," he said through gritted teeth, "I just want to talk with Potter. I have a…proposition for him."

"Oh, please!" Hermione spat back. "You expect me to believe that? And you think Harry would ever strike a deal with you? How stupid do you think he is? So you could turn around and betray him to Voldemort?"

"I'm not—" he began, but she cut him off.

"You'd do anything for a bit of power! To prove yourself to that monster. You were going to kill Dumbledore for him. You killed your own father for him, for goodness' sake!"

Draco's eyes flashed, and he leaned over and grabbed her wrist abruptly.

"I did  _not_ kill my father!" he hissed.

"Didn't you? That's not what I heard. And your mother's been missing for weeks. Did you kill her too?" she asked coldly.

Draco gripped her tighter and puller her closer, so their faces were mere inches apart. Hermione could see rage burning in his eyes and she thought he might pull out his wand and curse her.

"Don't talk about things that you know  _nothing_ about," he threatened in a low, dangerous voice. Then he released her wrist suddenly, causing her to fall back against her chair.

He got up from his chair.

"You, of all people, should know not to believe everything you read in the  _Prophet_ ," he went on bitingly. "Or were you really spotted recently on a romantic tryst in Italy with Cormac McLaggen?"

"What?!" she exclaimed, outraged. "Absolutely not! He's odious."

Draco turned to her and regarded her for a few moments.

"You know, Granger, for all your talk of morals and righteousness, you're really no better than me." He didn't sound angry anymore, merely resigned. "You're just as prejudiced as I was. At least I can admit it."

With that, he strode past her and out of the room, leaving her staring after him—for once, speechless.


	9. The Library

Hermione blinked for a few moments as Draco's words sunk in.

Was he right? Was she really prejudiced against him?

Maybe. But she reminded herself that she had every reason to be. His actions spoke for themselves, didn't they? He had been nothing but horrible to her their entire lives. Why would she  _not_  be prejudiced against him?

She pondered how he had spoken of his own prejudices as if they were in the past. Was that true? Had Malfoy really changed his way of thinking?

She shook her head. It didn't seem possible. After all, he had still tricked her and brought her here against her will. He had threatened her in order to get Harry to comply with his wishes.

However, Hermione had to admit that, although Draco hadn't exactly been kind to her, he hadn't flung one slur about her being Muggle-born the entire time she had been with him. He had also seemed to have gone to some trouble to make sure she was comfortable in the house.

But what did that mean? It certainly didn't mean he was a good person. Just because he hadn't called her a Mudblood didn't mean that he still didn't think it. After all, he had still mocked her and, at times, been cruel.

She absentmindedly walked to the kitchen table and cleared their plates. Neither of them had eaten much.

Then her thoughts went back to the previous evening and how Draco had comforted her after her nightmare. She could have sworn she had seen genuine concern in his eyes as he had held her close. He had almost seemed like a different person then, not at all like the Draco Malfoy she knew. Kind, gentle, and caring.

Hermione mind pondered all these things as she cleaned up the kitchen. At home, she often did her best thinking when she was cleaning. However, after a while, she still could make no sense of her thoughts.

She filled the sink with hot water and soap to clean the dishes and wished she had some music to drown out the loudness in her brain.

Out of nowhere, a radio appeared on the counter. Intrigued, she flipped it on and began hearing Muggle music she remembered from her childhood. It reminded her of cooking with her mother when she was young and made her smile.

And so, Hermione gave herself permission to not think for a while and instead sang along softly with the music.

* * *

Draco strode angrily into the library and stopped to rest both his hands on his desk, breathing hard. He could feel fury burning in his throat.

How dare she speak to him like that? Who did she think she was?

She thought she knew everything. Everything about him—who he was, what he believed, what he cared about.

He wanted to go back in there and yell at her. Shake her until she listened to him.

Tell her that he was a dead man walking, wanted by both sides. That Potter was his last hope. That he knew she wouldn't believe him if he asked her for help, so he had resorted to bringing her here by force. That he didn't want to hurt her. That he was sorry he had ever hurt her. That he wanted to be a better person but didn't know how.

But he knew it wouldn't change a thing. He could tell her all that and more, and she wouldn't believe a word of it.

Draco let out a strangled cry and swept the books off the desk, so they fell to the floor with a loud thud.

He closed his eyes, trying to slow his ragged breathing. After a few moments, he hung his head in resignation.

He was in too deep now and had to finish what he started.

With that, he knelt and began collecting the books he had violently cast to the ground. He had work to do.

* * *

Once Hermione finished cleaning, drying, and putting away the dishes, she glanced around the empty kitchen.

_Now what?_  She wasn't sure what to do with herself the rest of the day.

She wandered into the living room and looked around. She noticed a dark hallway beneath the stairs and wondered where it went. Draco hadn't told her.

Curiosity got the best of her and she found herself making her way down it. At the end of the hall was a partially opened door, which she pushed open slowly and peered inside.

Hermione gasped.

In front of her was the largest library she had ever seen. It even looked bigger than the one at Hogwarts. She took a few steps forward and gazed around in amazement.

Floor to ceiling, there were rows and rows of bookshelves, filled to the brim. The shelves continued so far behind each other, she couldn't even tell where the room ended.

In the middle, flanked by two matching rows of bookshelves, was a large fireplace with a fire roaring away. On either side of the fireplace were two huge picture windows, overlooking the snowy grounds. Facing the fireplace and windows was a large plush couch.

Hermione was overwhelmed with the urge to curl up on the couch with as many books as she could get her hands on and never leave.

"You're drooling, Granger," a sarcastic voice drawled behind her, causing her to jump.

She spun around to see Draco sitting at a large mahogany desk resting in an alcove to the left of the doorway, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Merlin, you scared me!" she said, accusingly, with her hand on her chest.

"Sorry," he replied, not looking sorry at all, but instead rather pleased with himself.

Draco leaned back in his chair and placed both of his hands behind his head, smirking.

"Do you need me to give you and the books some privacy, so you can get better acquainted?"

Hermione ignored him, spinning in a slow circle to take the whole room in.

"This place is amazing! I never would have imagined this was hiding back here."

"It's not, really." Draco drummed the long fingers of one of his hands against the wood of the table. "It's actually the library at Malfoy Manor. I managed to enchant it so it would 'appear' here, so to speak." He looked around, admiring it for a moment too. "We're really just in a spare bedroom, but the library is filling its space."

Hermione looked at him, impressed. "That's very complicated magic."

"Well, I have research to do, but since I'm unable to be at the Manor at the moment, I brought the library here." He closed one of his books.

"You're more than welcome to look around." He picked up another book and opened it. "Just don't make a nuisance of yourself. And make sure you put everything back where you found it." He frowned. "This place is a beast to reorganize."

"I bet," she said breathlessly, with a smile on her face that implied there was nothing she would enjoy more than cataloguing the whole library, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

"Oh, and you can't take any of the books out of this room or they'll disappear. It's part of the magic, so you'll need to read them in here." He motioned his head toward the couch.

His last statement made Hermione slightly uncomfortable since the library was where Draco was currently working. But the couch seemed far enough away. She wouldn't need to sit with him or talk to him.

Plus, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to see if there were books in here that could help her with her research for Harry where the Ministry's library had failed. It was ironic, really, that she may be able to find the answers to many of her questions on their mission to destroy Voldemort in a Death Eater's library. Hermione felt certain there would be many books on the Dark Arts in here.

"Well, yes, I would love to have a look," she said carefully, trying not to sound too excited.

Draco glanced up from his book, raising his eyebrows and motioning towards the shelves. "Go ahead."

The next half hour, Hermione spent losing herself in the stacks, finding treasure after treasure. She did mainly keep an eye out for books that she thought would be helpful for her mission, but she couldn't help being distracted when she came across rare titles that had been on her wish list to read forever.

* * *

"This has been out of print for ages!"

It seemed every few minutes, Hermione would let out a squeal or an exclamation that would cause Draco to jump in surprise. It was incredibly annoying, but he also found himself smiling unwittingly a few times. She really was a hopeless bookworm.

Fifteen more minutes passed in that fashion. Draco was just about to tell her she was going to be banned from the library if she didn't stop her outcries when he saw her emerge from the shelves with a stack of books so large, it was almost over her head.

Hermione brought them to the couch and sat down on the far end with a satisfied sigh.

Draco looked up at her as she opened a book and tucked her legs underneath her. He couldn't help but notice the smile on her face. It was the most relaxed he had seen her since he had brought her there.

_I should have taken her straight to the library_ , he thought, ironically.  _She probably would have stayed the week on her own._

Draco went back to his reading but periodically glanced in Hermione's direction. She had sat down on the farthest end of the couch away from him (no doubt, on purpose) but, the way the couch was angled, he could see her side profile.

He found himself drawn to how content she looked. Every so often, she would bite her lip in thought or twirl a lock of her hair, absentmindedly. Although he didn't know what she was reading, he could see her mind processing the information swiftly, working like a machine.

She looked enigmatic. Like she knew the something exciting that she just might share. Perhaps, in other company, she would have.

As the minutes passed, Draco found himself looking up more often, half hoping Hermione would break the silence and tell him what she found so interesting. Another few times, he was about to say something to her himself but changed his mind at the last second.

* * *

Sensing eyes on her, Hermione turned her head slightly and looked in Draco's direction. She was surprised to see him quickly cast his gaze away from her, down to his books.

Had he been watching her? she wondered, uncomfortably.

She shifted in her seat but shook her head at the thought. No, most likely he had been looking out the window, as she was seated right in front of it.

The afternoon wore on and Hermione made a dent in her books, mentally making a note of things she thought could be helpful to Harry. She wished she had parchment to take notes like Draco was doing, but she didn't want to ask for it.

She knew the room would give it to her, but she was afraid Draco would invite her to sit with him at the table if he saw her writing. The thought of sharing the desk with him seemed too intimate, and she didn't like the idea.

As she picked up the last book in her stack, a yawn escaped her lips.

Merlin, she was tired. She certainly hadn't slept well last night, and it was warm and comfortable by the fireplace, with winter sunlight streaming in through the window.

She laid the book on her lap and lowered herself deeper into the inviting couch cushions. She closed her eyes for a few moments and, without realizing it, let the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of Draco's quill scratching against parchment lull her to sleep.

* * *

Glimpsing up again, Draco was surprised to see that Hermione was no longer reading but had fallen asleep with a book open in her lap.

Seeing her asleep reminded him of how she had looked last night when he had walked in on her nightmare. It was quite the contrast, and he felt relieved to see her so content now.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, catching some of the golden and auburn tones in her brunette hair, and highlighting her lips. They had the smallest hint of a smile, while her chest rose and fell slowly with her breathing.

Even though he knew she would be furious, Draco put his quill down and watched her sleep for a few moments. He was amazed that someone who was going through as much as she was right now—being there with him, fearing for Potter, missing her parents—could still manage to look so peaceful.

He guessed that her innate goodness was what gave her that glow, causing him to feel a small, inexplicable tug at his heart.

In that moment, Hermione stirred slightly and unconsciously curled her arms in closer to her chest.

Draco frowned. Was she cold? No doubt the large windows were a bit drafty this time of year.

He stood up and summoned a blanket to himself, then quietly walked over and draped it across her sleeping body.

As he did, he saw Hermione's smile widen slightly, and her arms relax.

Unconsciously, Draco returned her smile. After watching her for one more moment, he shook his head then left the room to prepare dinner.

 


	10. The Things We Have in Common

Hermione's eyelids fluttered open and she sat up slowly, looking around the room. For a moment, she thought she was in the library at Hogwarts but then she remembered where she really was.

The library of Malfoy Manor enchanted to be part of Draco Malfoy's current home.

That thought made her turn her head towards the desk Draco had been sitting at earlier. She was relieved to see that it was empty. She didn't like the idea of having fallen asleep in front of him. It made her feel vulnerable. Although, with any luck, he hadn't even noticed.

As she stood up, a soft white blanket fell from her. Hermione picked it up, confused.

_Where did that come from?_ she wondered. She was certain it hadn't been there when she fell asleep. Had Malfoy put it on her?

No, most likely she had subconsciously thought she was cold while she slept, and the house had provided it. She folded it up neatly, draping it across the couch.

Hermione picked up the stack of books she had been reading earlier and put them back on the shelves.

By the time she was satisfied that she had put her books away in the right spots, she noticed it was dark outside. Her stomach growled so she made her way out of the library towards the kitchen.

* * *

Draco had just finished pulling a loaf of garlic bread out of the oven to go with the spaghetti he had made for dinner when Hermione entered the room.

"Just in time," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, um, yes…thanks." Hermione put her arms around herself and rubbed them, looking slightly embarrassed. "I guess I needed it."

Draco nodded, as he handed her a plate then made his way over to the table. Hermione followed.

As they started eating, Draco couldn't help but remember the last meal they had shared and how poorly it had gone. He certainly didn't want another repeat of that. However, after a few more minutes, he decided the silence might be worse so he spoke.

"I hope this meal is a little more to your liking than breakfast was."

Hermione glanced at him awkwardly, then back at her food. "Uh, yes, It's actually quite good."

He took a sip of water and regarded her.

"Glad to hear it."

A few more moments of silence passed, so Draco spoke again.

"Spaghetti was always my favorite meal as a child…I used to sneak down to the kitchen to watch the house elves make it. I think I liked it because the noodles reminded me of worms."

Hermione nearly choked on her pasta over his odd revelation. She coughed but managed to recover enough to speak.

"And that made you like it?"

"I was five." He shrugged. "I liked anything that reminded me of worms."

She shook her head. "I have a hard time picturing you hanging out in the kitchen with house elves."

"Well, my father certainly put a stop to it after he found out." Draco smiled bitterly. "But I guess something must have stuck with me or we wouldn't have this fine meal we're eating now."

"I guess not," Hermione said dully and continued eating.

Draco frowned. Making conversation with her was about as easy as tying a bow on a Blast-Ended Skrewt. After a few more minutes, he tried again. Their conversation from lunch was still weighing on his mind, so he said, carefully.

"I Obliviated my mother's memory and sent her into hiding in New Zealand, for her safety." Draco wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say, but he wanted Hermione to know the truth about that, at least. "That's why she's been reported missing."

"Oh!" Hermione said sounding genuinely surprised and looked at him. Draco's gaze met hers briefly before dropping down as he pushed food around on his plate. She was silent for a moment or two.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she finally asked, softly.

"Yes, it is." Draco's eyes found hers again.

Hermione hesitantly elaborated.

"I Obliviated my parents' memories over a year ago and it still hasn't gotten any easier. I mean, I'm glad they're safe. I've checked up on them a few times, but it almost makes it harder." She cocked her head to the side. "To have them see me but not really see me, you know?"

Draco nodded and swallowed. "I think the thing that I hate the most is knowing that if I die, the only person who would miss me…won't even remember me." He pulled his gaze away from Hermione's as he finished his sentence, focusing on turning his water glass in his hand. He had no idea why he just told her that.

* * *

Hermione stared at Draco, openly now, since he was no longer looking at her, and she thought about his statement. She realized it was probably true and felt a small twinge of sadness for him. After all, that wasn't something she'd ever had to think about. She had many people who cared for her.

She shook her head, looking back at her plate, although she didn't feel very hungry anymore. She could  _not_  afford to have sympathy for him, she reminded herself. It was his own fault no one cared about him.

Draco cleared his throat, uncomfortably, and changed the subject.

"The nightmare you had last night…do you have those often?"

So grateful for a new topic of conversation, Hermione answered without really thinking.

"Yes…well, not quite so much anymore. But I used to have them almost every night."

"It's like that…especially in the beginning. Have you tried Dream-Blocking Draughts? I found those helped immensely."

"Yes, a few times." Then the meaning of Draco's words sunk in. "Have you…had the Cruciatus curse used on you?"

"After sixth year. When…," Draco's voice trailed off, but she knew what he was referring to. When he hadn't been successful in killing Dumbledore.

He slid his chair back from the table and picked his plate up, seemingly uncomfortable that the conversation had turned back to him. "Anyway, time does help. You should start to have the nightmares less and less."

Picking up her plate, Hermione followed him to the counter. "I've already noticed they don't come as often as they used to. It's usually only when I'm under a lot of stress that I have one."

Draco took her plate from her then turned towards the sink. He didn't say anything else, most likely because he realized he had been the source of stress that had triggered last night's dream.

Hermione stood next to Draco, momentarily lost in thought about her reoccurring nightmares. She had never expected him to ask her about them, especially not out of concern as it seemed he had.

Draco's back was to her and he remained quiet, so she said, "I think I'll head to bed. I'm still pretty tired."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed towards the stairs. Their conversation weighed on her mind as she began climbing them.

Unbelievably, she and Draco had some things in common. She'd never have thought that would be the case.

_It's too bad the things we have in common are so awful,_ she thought miserably.

When she reached her room, Hermione changed into one of the nightgowns she had found in the top drawer of the dresser that morning and immediately felt ridiculous. The material was incredibly soft and luxurious, but it looked like nothing she would normally wear to bed.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and saw that the silky material clung to her body attractively, but loosely enough so that she was comfortable. The thin straps rested securely on her shoulders and she was relieved that, although the neckline was cut in a V, it wasn't too revealing. The rich material pooled around her feet, just above the floor and she had to lift the hem slightly when she walked. She felt incredibly silly, like a forlorn heroine in a gothic romance novel.

She turned back to the dresser to search for something less extravagant when she caught sight of a small collection of books resting between two matching bookends on top. How had she missed them this morning?

She looked at the titles and was astonished to find they were all Muggle classics _. Jane Eyre, Rebecca, Pride & Prejudice, Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Around the World in 80 Days, _and  _Alice in Wonderland._

How odd. Of all the things in this room (lavish nightgown included) nothing surprised her more than these.

Had Malfoy bought these for her? Where had he gotten Muggle books and why had he bothered? She picked the first title up,  _Jane Eyre_ , and opened it. The spine crinkled deliciously the way new books do and she read the opening line.

_There was no possibility of taking a walk that day._

Although Hermione had read this book before, it had been a very long time. She found herself drawn into the story within the first few paragraphs. She continued reading as she sat down upon the bed, resting her back against the lush pillows.

For the next twenty minutes, she allowed herself to be transported to Jane's pitiful world, forgetting her own troubles, when a light knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Hermione said automatically, still engrossed in the novel.

The door opened and Draco stepped into the room. She didn't even look up when he entered.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "I thought you might want this."

At the sound of his voice, Hermione jumped and turned towards the doorway, feeling flustered. She had been so absorbed in her book that she had forgotten where she was.

Immediately, Hermione felt her face flush, remembering she was only wearing a nightgown. She grabbed a pillow next to her, hugging it as if it were a shield.

Ironically, her awkward movements seemed to make Draco feel more comfortable. He smirked slightly and walked towards her, holding out his hand.

"It's a Dream-Blocking Draught. Like I said, it should help with the nightmares."

"Oh!" Hermione allowed him to drop a small white pill into her palm. She stared at it, not sure that she wanted to take anything he was offering her, although it did look the same as the Dream-Blocking Draughts she had taken in the past.

Draco seemed to sense her hesitation. "Don't worry, it's very safe. It won't even make you drowsy, not like Dreamless Sleeping Draughts. These just block your dreams."

His words caused a light to go on in her head. Hadn't she read somewhere that Dream-Blocking Draughts taken in large quantity could mimic Dreamless Sleeping Draughts and even knock someone unconscious? The thought gave her an idea and she closed her hand around the pill.

"I'll give it a try," she said. "Thank you."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "You're welcome. It's as much for me as for you. I don't feel like being woken up at 3 a.m. and slapped senseless by you again."

"You're so thoughtful," Hermione said sarcastically, making a face at him.

"I try."

He turned and walked towards the door, closing it behind him. Hermione heard a lock click into place and Draco's footsteps walking away.

She slid out of bed and opened the third drawer of the dresser. She pulled out a pair of red socks and opened one of them. She dropped the pill in and rolled the sock up, putting it inside it's match, then stuffed it in the back of the drawer.

If her suspicions were correct, she may have just found a way to escape.


	11. Love Stories

Hermione awoke the next morning to the first rays of sunlight streaming in from a crack in the rich blue curtains. She turned over and checked the time. 6:30 a.m.

Even though she hadn't taken the Dream-Blocking Draught, she had slept well. She was especially relieved that she hadn't had any nightmares because, if she had, Draco would have known she hadn't taken the draught and may have become suspicious.

She pulled off the covers and headed towards the closet. She picked a soft jeweled-tone jumper and slim black pants then went to shower quickly.

After showering and dressing, Hermione headed down to the kitchen and was relieved to find it empty. She pulled open the fridge and began to take out ingredients for an omelet. If her plan was going to work, she needed Draco to be comfortable with her cooking for him.

She flipped on the radio that the house had given her yesterday and smiled when another familiar song rang out. Suddenly, she was transported back to her childhood and felt safe.

As she worked, grating potatoes for hash browns, the sun gradually rose over the snowy white grounds outside the window. Between the view, her cooking, and the familiar music, she found herself singing and swaying along to the much-loved songs of her past.

The music cheered Hermione and she smiled, knowing that she had a possible plan that could help her get home.

* * *

When Draco woke up that morning, the first thing he thought was that he felt more rested than he had in ages.

The second thing he thought was that he was relieved Hermione apparently hadn't had another nightmare. She must have taken the Dream-Blocking Draught he had given her.

He recalled her initial hesitation when he had offered it to her. No doubt she had been worried that he had tampered with the pill in some way and it would harm her. He found himself feeling glad that she had trusted him enough to take it.

He got out of bed, showered and dressed, then headed downstairs. When he got there, he was surprised to hear music coming from the kitchen. It was only seven-thirty. Was Hermione awake already?

As he got closer, not only did he hear music playing but he also heard Hermione softly singing along. She, surprisingly, had a nice voice.

Draco hesitated near the entrance of the kitchen. He could hear the movement of dishes and smell onions frying. Hermione came into view with her back to him. As she dropped ingredients into a frying pan, she swayed in time to the music.

Snippets of whimsical lyrics flowed easily off her tongue, ending in a playful request. "Dream a little dream of me _,"_ she sang, adding in her own lilts to the alluring melody.

Draco smiled at the sight of her so clearly in her own world. The poetry of the song seemed odd to him, especially coming from her lips, but he decided he liked it and the catchy tune.

Not wanting Hermione to turn around and see him watching her, Draco strode into the kitchen.

"What on earth are you listening to, Granger?"

Hermione visibly jumped and spun around to face him. "Merlin, Malfoy!" she scolded him. "You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry." He gave her a crooked smile, not looking sorry at all. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a coffee cup.

"But seriously, what is this? I've never heard music like this before." Draco motioned towards the radio.

Hermione sighed and returned to her cooking. "If you must know, it's Muggle music."

"Muggle music?"

"Yes, believe it or not, many Muggles are quite talented and they've composed all sorts of music."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. But why this song?"

She glanced back at him, as if surprised he hadn't made a disparaging remark about Muggles.

"It's just what the radio's been playing since it appeared. Mainly songs my parents used to play for me when I was growing up." She sprinkled ingredients into the frying pan and stirred, smiling. "They used to say these were the songs the fell in love with each other to."

"Oh." Draco drew his eyebrows together. "And how did they do that?"

Hermione turned around, spoon in hand, looking at him incredulously.

"Are you asking me how my parents fell in love?"

Shrugging again, Draco didn't say anything but continued to look at Hermione expectantly. He had never known anyone who had been in love before. His own parents certainly never had been and he found himself curious.

Hermione seemed puzzled by his request, so Draco just kept looking at her like he was waiting for her to tell him. Surprisingly, she did.

"They met in dental school, actually." Seeing his confused expression, Hermione explained, "dental school is for Muggles who take care of people's teeth."

Draco nodded then poured himself a cup of coffee, looking back up at her intently. Slowly, she went on.

"They were both vying for a very important grant that would allow the winner to finish school for free. So I guess you could say they were in competition with each other over that.

"Anyway, my dad says he always had a thing for my mum since he met her, but he was too shy to say anything." She stopped and smiled. "He's a bit of a quiet one, my dad."

Draco found himself smiling too, over the idea of a Granger not being able to express what they were thinking. Hermione clearly hadn't gotten that quality.

"My mum had a boyfriend at the time and didn't really take much notice of my dad, even though they had some classes together. She's more of a free spirit, my mum, and I don't think she thought my dad was her type. Too scholarly and serious, I suppose.

"Well, my mum's dad—my grandfather—got very sick and she had to spend a lot of time taking care of him. She was an only child and her mum had passed away when she was a teenager. Basically, she was having a really rough time—juggling classes and work while caring for my grandfather.

"My father ended up winning the grant they both wanted, but when he found out my mum was the second runner-up, he declined it."

"Why?" Draco asked, puzzled.

"Even though he didn't know my mum that well, he heard from friends that she was going to have to drop out of school to care for her father. Without the grant, she couldn't afford to care for him and pay for school—let alone have the time to work and take classes.

"My dad didn't want her to find out, but he quietly declined the grant and they gave it to my mum instead."

Draco was impressed. Even though he didn't exactly know what a grant was, it sounded important. Hermione went on.

"But my mum  _did_ find out and, as you can imagine, she was very surprised. Like I said, she didn't really know him well at the time.

"So, she went to his apartment to thank him and ask him why he had done it, and they ended up talking all night. My mum said nothing felt as natural as talking with him that night did. They just clicked.

"My mum broke up with her boyfriend, who I guess was a bit of a prat anyway, and it took a few weeks for my dad to get the hint, but he asked her out. The rest is history." Hermione smiled, clearly enjoying remembering the story she had just told.

Draco frowned, trying to piece everything together.

"So, she fell in love with him because he did something nice for her?"

Hermione began dishing the food onto plates.

"Well, I think it helped but I don't think it was the  _whole_ reason. Although, it certainly made her notice what type of man he was." She handed Draco a plate.

They walked to the table together and sat down, while Hermione went on.

"After I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, mum thought the reason I had magic was because of what my dad did for her. She said that his act was so unselfish—the act of true love. She said it was magical, and it carried over into me." She smiled. "I'm not sure if I believe all that, but it's a nice theory."

* * *

Draco remained quiet, lost in thought, and Hermione realized he was probably horrified at her last statement. After all, he had always said that Muggles born with magic were freaks of nature, not miracles. She held her breath, waiting for a biting comment, but it didn't come.

Another minute went by without Draco saying anything. He looked perplexed, pushing food around on his plate, eyebrows drawn together, so Hermione broke the silence by asking awkwardly.

"So, uh, what about your parents? Do you know how they fell in love?"

Draco looked up at her as if she had just started dancing ballet on the kitchen table. Then he shook his head.

"They didn't fall in love. They had an arranged marriage." He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world, then took a bite of food.

"Really?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That's archaic!"

Draco shrugged. "It's what all Pureblood families do. It ensures the purity of their bloodline."

Hermione shook her head. "That sounds awful. You know, most Muggles haven't practiced arrange marriage for over a century. It's really outdated."

Draco was silent and kept eating with a blank look on his face.

"So, do you have an arranged marriage?" Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't help but ask.

Draco took a sip of orange juice and looked at her.

"Not currently in place, but it's always been assumed I would when the time was right." He said it as if he were talking about something as commonplace as picking out a new shirt at the store.

Hermione thought about that for a minute, as she chewed. "But doesn't that bother you? I mean, to not have any say who you marry? It's so…cold."

"Not really," he answered and shrugged. "It's always been a fact of life. I know many wizarding families have given up the practice, but my father was very insistent that I would uphold the Malfoy name by marrying someone he thought proper."

"Of course, he did," she said sarcastically, then looked at Draco's serious face and felt a slight twinge of sorrow for him.

"But don't you want to marry for love?" she asked softly.

Draco gave a contemptuous laugh and rolled his eyes.

"I don't exactly think love is in the cards for me, do you?"

Hermione regarded him then shook her head sadly, now realizing why he had asked her about her parents.

"I think everyone is destined to find love if they're open to it," she replied honestly.

* * *

Hermione's words surprised him and Draco stared at her with an odd expression on his face. He had expected her to come back at him with a biting of comment about how he was so horrible he didn't deserve love, or that it was his own fault no one would ever love him.

For a few seconds, their gaze held, each of them trying to get a better understanding of the other.

Draco cleared his throat then looked down at his plate. "This is very good, by the way. Did you really do all this without a wand?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, believe it or not, I often cook without my wand. I find it relaxes me."

"If I wasn't so desperate for a decent meal, I would make fun of you for that," he teased with a smirk.

She made a face, but a tiny smile played around the edges of her lips.

"So, did the Dream-Blocking Draught help last night?" he asked, getting up to clear his plate.

"Yes, I slept much better. I'm glad you gave it to me."

As Hermione finished her breakfast, Draco started cleaning up the kitchen. He frowned slightly. The food had been fantastic but she had made an unbelievable mess.

"Good Godric, Granger, does trashing the kitchen while you're cooking relax you too?"

Hermione turned to survey the chaos and winced. It was quite bad.

"That's the part I do use my wand for," she said, and they both laughed.

After Draco finished restoring the kitchen to its previous state of cleanliness, he made his way to the library. He had come across a particularly helpful book that talked about theories on how to destroy Horcruxes, and he was interested to learn more.

Hermione had put on her winter gear from yesterday and headed outside for a walk. He wondered if she was out there testing the containment charms again. After all, he knew her to be persistent.

As he worked, Draco sensed movement outside one of the picture windows and looked up to see Granger walking across the snow-covered ground. Fresh snowflakes fell around her as she ambled, hands in her cloak pockets, hair blowing in the wind.

Gazing at her, his mind went back to their conversation this morning and the question she had asked him about whether he wanted love. Even now, the idea seemed ludicrous to him.

Sure, he had been with his fair share of women, but that had always been purely physical. What she had talked about—her parents and how her father had sacrificed so much for her mother, not wanting anything in return from her but her happiness—Draco had never felt that way towards any woman and didn't think he ever would. He wasn't sure if he was even capable of it.

As he gazed out the window at Hermione, he admitted to himself that he felt drawn to her. From the moment he had spotted her at the Christmas party, he had acknowledged that she was beautiful, but it was more than that. After being with her these past few days, he felt an attraction to her that he didn't quite understand. A physical attraction, yes, but also an attraction to her spirit.

For a moment, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have her, all of her, but he banished the thought quickly from his mind.

That was absurd. Besides the fact that she would obviously hex him into oblivion, even without a wand, if he dared try anything, he realized he could never do that to her.

She was different than the women he had been with. With them, it was always clear that it wasn't, and never would be, anything more, and they were fine with that. But with Hermione, he knew that would never be right. She had a goodness about her that needed to be cherished. She deserved love, even if he didn't.

Much like a specter, she walked on in the swirling snow and out of view. Draco shook his head and returned to his reading.

* * *

Hermione had gone outside after breakfast. This time not to try to find a break in the barrier but to enjoy a walk around the beautiful grounds.

As she walked, her footsteps made crunching sounds in the snow and a light snowfall began.

Her thoughts were busy recalling her and Draco's conversation that morning.

It was probably the oddest conversation she had ever had in her life. Partially because of the subject matter but mainly because she had it with him.

Draco had surprised her immensely when he asked her, with genuine interest, about her parents.

The way he had listened to her story reminded her of someone trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle they couldn't quite see.

If she didn't know any better, she would think that Draco Malfoy had just asked her to tell him what love was.

But that was ridiculous. Surely even if he had never experienced it, he could recognize it in others.

Although the way Draco had responded when she had asked him about his potential arranged marriage made Hermione wonder. He had been so casual and resigned to the idea of being paired with someone not of his own choosing for life, purely for the sake of duty. It was like the thought of it didn't really bother him at all.

Suddenly, she felt a twinge of pity for him. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to go through life knowing she would never be able to fall in love. Or if she did, she would not be allowed to be with the man she loved. Would she be as cruel and heartless as Malfoy if her parents raised her that way?

That thought, and all its connotations, made Hermione feel so uncomfortable she dismissed it. She was nothing like Draco Malfoy.

Instead, she wondered who his future bride would be—perhaps Pansy Parkinson or another Pureblooded Slytherin girl. Whoever she was, Hermione didn’t envy her.

Even though he had been the object of many a teenage witch's infatuation at Hogwarts—Hermione even remembered hearing his conquests bragging to other girls about being his choice of the week—Hermione could only imagine how cold and joyless a marriage with him would be.

She shivered, more at the thought of that than the cold wind, and walked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters! I'm a bit emotionally attached to it so I'd love to hear your thoughts ;)
> 
> The song mentioned here is "Dream a Little Dream of Me," by the Mamas and the Papas.


	12. Dream a Little Dream of Me

After lunch, Hermione made her way into the library and found Draco already there, seated at the same desk he had been at yesterday. He glanced up briefly when she walked in but didn't greet her.

She made her way over to the shelves, looking for a book that might help her with the nagging question in her brain.

She pulled out a book titled  _Magical Pills, Potions, & Cures_ and searched the index for Dream-Blocking Draught. She found it listed and flipped to the appropriate page.

_The Dream-Blocking Draught is a very mild, common pill or potion designed to grant relief to those suffering from disturbing dreams._

_It is most commonly used to help those who have experienced a traumatic event and is generally considered very safe and non-habit forming._

_One dose will not have any physical effect on the user besides blocking his dreams when he falls asleep._

_Two doses will block the user's dreams but also cause him to feel drowsy with a sense of contentment. It will aid those struggling to fall asleep, as well as keep their dreams at bay when they do._

_Three doses are rarely used and will knock the user completely unconscious for a span of an hour while still blocking dreams. Because the effects are short-lived, this dosage is seldom taken for sleeping ailments._

_Four doses taken at once is lethal and the only known antidote is the essence of clover flower._

_See_ Dreamless Sleeping Draught _: the preferred, safer alternative for those looking to fall into an instant, dreamless sleep._

Hermione's hunch had been correct. If she could get three Dream-Blocking Draughts from Draco and hide them in his food, she might be able to escape. She closed the book and slid it back on the shelf. The question was whether he would give her any more pills.

This morning, he had asked about the draught he had given her and seemed pleased when she had lied and said it had helped her. She decided if he didn't offer her one tonight, she would ask him for it.

Having decided that, she perused the shelves for books that interested her and picked one or two somewhat absentmindedly, all the while her mind stirring over her plan.

Every day she was there was a greater risk that Harry had gotten Draco's message and would show up to save her. The thought worried her. Even though Draco had said he just wanted to talk with Harry, she still didn't trust him.

Even if that was true, and he had no intention of turning Harry over to Voldemort, what if Harry refused Draco's alleged proposal?

Even if Draco didn't currently have anything sinister planned, he was very clearly a desperate man on a mission. If something stood in the way of that, he may decide to eliminate any obstacles that stood in his path. Meaning, her and Harry.

And then there was the possibility that Draco had lied to her and  _was_  working with Voldemort and would hand both Harry and her over to him when he had them.

After all, just because his behavior had been kinder than she expected, she knew it could all be a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security. For all she knew, Draco was looking to strike up a strange friendship with her, get her to trust him, and then use it against her.

Whatever was going on, there were too many variables for her to really trust him. She couldn't afford to let her guard down at any minute.

No sooner had she thought that when some titles on the bookshelf caused her to do a double-take. She looked again and then let out a small exclamation of shock. On the highest shelf above her was a collection of various Muggle books. Of all the things she thought she might see at the Malfoy Manor library, this was the most surprising.

She saw various titles by Charles Dickens, The Bronte Sisters, Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde, and more. She stood on her tiptoes struggling to reach one, but she was not quite tall enough. She tried again, jumping slightly, but not able to get a grip, then exclaimed in pain as one of her elbows hit the shelf as she came crashing down.

She went back to trying to stretch to reach the book when she felt movement directly behind her and heard an exasperated voice.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, if you want it so badly, just ask."

She felt Draco's body press lightly against her back as he reached above her head and easily pulled down the book she had been struggling to get.

Hermione spun around in shock from his sudden appearance and lost her balance from standing on her toes. She stumbled into him, pressing both hands to his chest to steady herself. Draco brought an arm up to her waist to support her.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the feel of his hand on her, and she felt her face flush as she looked up at him in surprise.

Draco let out a quick breath, his grey eyes intense as they met hers.

Being this close to him made Hermione's head swim slightly and now that their gazes were locked, she found she couldn't look away.

For the briefest of moments, Draco's eyes flashed to her lips, then he took a step back and released her. She pulled her hands back from his chest and automatically hugged them around herself.

"Here." He held out the small red book that he had retrieved for her and she took it from him with a slightly shaky hand. She hoped he didn't notice.

Looking down at the book that had caused so much trouble, Hermione opened the front cover.

"This is a first edition!" she exclaimed.

"So?"

"This is a first edition of  _A Christmas Carol_! It's extremely rare!" she answered, breathlessly.

Draco took it from her and examined it, narrowing his eyes. He handed it back to her.

"I've never even heard of it." He sounded unimpressed.

"It's a very well-known Muggle book," she explained. "Why do you even have it here?"

Draco shrugged. "My mother used to collect Muggle books. She had quite a fondness for them at one point, but my father didn't approve. He made her keep them on the top shelves, so I wouldn't read them."

"What, he didn't want your innocent mind polluted?"

"Something like that," he muttered as he turned to walk away.

"Wait." Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm. "You should read it."

Draco turned towards her, looking surprised by her initiation of contact.

"Why?"

She released him and held the book out. "It's really good. And besides, it's almost Christmas. It's the perfect time of year."

He snorted caustically but took it from her. He examined it again.

"Alright," he said, hesitantly.

Hermione smiled at him, surprised he had agreed so quickly, then brushed past him and returned to her seat on the couch with a few books in hand. She tucked her legs under her and leaned into the side of the couch, opening a book.

A few seconds later, she looked up, startled, to see Draco throw himself down on the opposite side. Resting his back against a pillow he had propped up against the arm of the couch, he sat facing her. He raised his legs up to rest the book on his knees and opened it.

Sensing her eyes on him, he looked over at Hermione to see her staring in shock.

"What?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. "You told me to read it."

"Nothing," she said quickly, then cast her own eyes down to read the book she had chosen.

Even though she was staring at her page, Hermione's mind wasn't reading any of the words. She was too aware of Draco's presence. It felt incredibly strange to have him sitting this close to her.

She glanced over at him, discreetly, and saw him perusing the page of his book. His expression was serious as his gray eyes moved across the page. She saw a faint trace of his usual scowl, but it seemed lessened.

He really was handsome, she admitted, then chided herself for even thinking it. Yes, he was handsome, and he knew it and liked to make sure everyone else knew it too.

Oddly enough, Hermione's mind went back to her and Draco's conversation this morning, just like it had when she was walking outside after breakfast. But now, watching Draco doing something as innocuous as reading a book made her see him a bit differently.

He seemed vulnerable somehow. Suddenly, she felt very sad for him, realizing he was resigned to go through life without giving and receiving love.

_Will he ever know what he's missing?_  she wondered.

Catching herself, she dismissed the thought. It wasn't anything to her.

She turned her eyes back to her book and began to really read it.

The minutes ticked by in silence, the sound of their pages turning the only thing that filled the room.

Much like she had the previous day, Hermione found her eyes growing heavy and she lowered her side deeper into the comfort of the couch. Even though she had slept well without any nightmares last night, she had stayed up late, engrossed in  _Jane Eyre._

Her eyelids fluttered closed and just before sleep overcame her, she felt the softness of a blanket being gently draped over her and she smiled.

* * *

After laying the blanket on Hermione, Draco carefully eased himself back into his position on the couch to not wake her.

He noticed the hint of a smile appear on her lips as he lowered the blanket onto her, and he felt a small glow of satisfaction at the sight.

She looked so peaceful sleeping, he couldn't help but smile back at her.

Picking up his book again, he continued reading.

Surprisingly, he was enjoying it. He quite liked that Scrooge character, although the guy needed to lighten up and live a little. What was the point of having all that money if he didn't spend it from time to time? However, Draco did have an appreciation for his cantankerous attitude, and couldn't help but think that if he lived to be an old man, he might be somewhat like Scrooge (but with nicer things).

The story was continuing to progress, when not ten minutes later, Draco was suddenly pulled out of it by the sound of Hermione saying his name.

Shocked, his eyes shot up from his book and over to her sleeping form.

It wasn't so much that she had said his name that got his attention, but the way she had said it.

"Draco," she breathed not much more than a whisper, but with a distinct tone of pleasure. She nestled closer into her blanket, and a mysterious smile appeared on her face. Then she let out a deep, contented sigh.

He gaped at her openly. Was she dreaming about  _him_? And if so,  _what,_ exactly, was she dreaming about him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, what a place to leave you, right? Thanks for the comments last time! As always, I love to hear your thoughts :)


	13. Sweet Dreams

_Hermione ran her fingers along the spines of the books in front of her as she perused the library shelves. She knew she had seen the book she needed here a few weeks ago._

_She pursed her lips, mentally repeating the title she was searching for. On her left hand, a large emerald ring sparkled in the sunlight that was shining in from the large picture window across the room._

_She was so engrossed in her task that she didn't even hear footsteps coming up behind her. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and a smooth, masculine voice said in her ear, "There you are. I should have known you would be in here."_

_She smiled but told herself she needed to focus. "I'm still trying to find that book Mr. Beems asked me about a few days ago."_

_"You work too hard," the voice chided her gently. "Besides, Harry and Ginny are going to be here soon for dinner. How will it look if you aren't there to greet them? We don't want them thinking you've left me," he teased._

_"Mmmhmm," she answered absentmindedly, still engrossed with the task at hand._

_Not at all pleased by being ignored, her companion switched up his tactic by taking his other hand and brushing her hair away from one of her shoulders, placing soft kisses on her neck._

_That got her attention as tingles of pleasure ran down her spine._

_"Draco," she exclaimed breathlessly, a smile spreading over her face. He brought his kisses down to her collarbone and she let out a blissful sigh and said, "all right, you win. I'll give up my search, but you have to help me look tomorrow."_

_"Deal," he said, then turned her around to face him. "I knew you couldn't resist me for long," he said smugly and pulled her body in closer to his._

_Hermione put her arms around his neck and chided him, "You're like a petulant child sometimes, you know that?"_

_"What can I say? I'm a jealous man and this library is my top competitor for your affection." Draco's gray eyes were teasing. "If I wasn't so handsome, I might worry that you only married me for my books."_

_Then his look turned serious._

_"You drive me crazy, Mrs. Draco Malfoy," he said in a low voice, before placing a passionate kiss on her lips that took her breath away._

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start, eyes opening wide as she struggled to get her bearings after her strange dream. An all-too-familiar voice said smugly, "Sweet dreams, Granger?"

She turned and saw a smirking Draco Malfoy watching her, book in hand, looking much too pleased with himself. Remembering her dream, she blushed a deep shade of crimson and averted her gaze, sitting up.

"No," she answered, trying to regain her composure. "Actually, the dream I had was rather ghastly."

"Really?" He leaned in closer to her. "It didn't sound that way to me. In fact, it sounded like you were quite enjoying yourself."

She glared at him, exasperated, her head still foggy from sleep. "What are you talking about?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest as if challenging her to deny it.

"You said my name, Granger."

Hermione cursed mentally, then disentangled herself from her blanket and got up off the couch, taking her stack of books with her.

"Not so fast." Draco got up after her. "What, exactly, were you dreaming about?"

"Nothing important." She tried to keep her voice steady, so she could bluff her way out of the situation. "We were at Hogwarts in Potions class, and you and I were paired up. We were making Draught of Living Death potion." She shoved one of the books in her hands back on the shelf.

"Nice try," Draco said. She turned to leave the row, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her path by leaning one long arm across the aisle.

"But I don't buy it," he went on, giving her a roguish grin. "It sounded much more… _intimate_  than that."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to go down the opposite aisle. Draco hurried after her.

"Come on," he called behind her. "Just admit it, you've got a thing for me."

She glared back at him. "I do not!"

Draco chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Relax! You certainly aren't the first to fall for the Malfoy charm and you won't be the last."

She placed another book on the shelf.

"If this is what you call charm, I'd hate to see your bad side."

Once again, he blocked her path and continued goading her.

"I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised." Grinning, he eyed her. "To be honest, you're not really my type…but, I suppose, if you want to have a go at it…" His voice trailed off as he raised his eyebrows, suggestively.

Hermione slammed her last two books hard into Draco's chest, causing him to stumble backward and lose his breath.

"You're disgusting!" she hissed and strode haughtily from the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Hermione was still fuming as she made her way into the kitchen and smacked her hands down on the kitchen counter.

She gazed out the window, trying to calm her angry breathing.

_That slimy little git_ , she thought venomously. His tactics may have changed, but he obviously still loved tormenting her.

Her anger for him was closely followed by anger with herself.

_Why on earth had she dreamed that?_ She knew dreams were often just a messy jumble of thoughts and events, but where had that one come from?

Then she recalled her and Draco's strange conversation that morning about her parents falling in love and Draco's eventual arranged marriage.

Hermione's breathing calmed slightly as she realized that was likely the cause of her odd dream. After all, she had even wondered about what life would be like for the poor girl who was forced to marry Draco Malfoy. Her tired, confused mind had just brought her in to play the part, however unrealistic it was.

She strode to the refrigerator to start preparing something for dinner, feeling slightly better due to her logical reasoning.

The dream had been a culmination of a bizarre conversation and nothing more.

But it still seemed odd that the scenario had played out as it had in her mind. She would think that a dream of being Draco Malfoy's wife would have a lot more terror in it and less kissing.

Hermione remembered how he had come up behind her in the library that afternoon to get the book she was reaching for, and how she had stumbled into him. When he had caught her and held her, their eyes had met and there had been a strange energy between them.

Of course, it didn't mean anything, Hermione told herself. She was just taken aback by being so close to him. No doubt, her mind had remembered that moment as well and it played into the dream.

As she began preparing ingredients for chicken fajitas, she felt more relaxed.

So, she had a dream about him. That's all it was, a crazy dream and nothing more. If he hadn't been there and heard her say his name, she probably would have forgotten it by now (or so she told herself).

Which brought her back to Draco's behavior towards her in the library after she had woken up. He had been far too conceited and annoying for her to tolerate, and his insinuations had been infuriating.

As if she had been harboring some secret flame for him over the years. As if she would ever let him actually kiss her. It was absurd.

She knew she had to keep her cool the next time she saw him and not let him get a reaction out of her again, or it would just encourage him.

In fact, the best thing to do would be to play it off like it wasn't a big deal, and soon he would grow bored with antagonizing her.

Hermione made a mental resolve to do just that and continued preparing dinner, feeling like she had a much better handle on the situation.

* * *

Draco felt a little bad about how angry Hermione had been with him when she'd stormed out of the library. Perhaps he had pushed her a bit too far with his teasing.

He thought back to how his name had sounded coming from her lips. He had never heard her use his first name before, and he had to admit, he liked it. He was still smiling to himself as he left the library that evening to make his way towards the delicious smells that were coming from the kitchen.

There was a part of him that felt much better about the fact that he had recently admitted to himself his own attraction to her. Not that he would ever act on it, but at least if she felt the same, even a little, he didn't feel quite so pathetic.

He knew that a dream from her subconscious wasn't the same as the covert glances he had been stealing at her the past two days, but it made him feel slightly less alone in the situation.

And, Merlin help him, he was still incredibly curious about what exactly had happened between them in her dream.

Draco entered the kitchen to see her already seated at the table, eating, with food being kept warm on the stove.

"Hello, darling," he greeted her cheerfully with a slight swagger in his step. "I hope you weren't terribly lonely without me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I managed somehow."

He dished food onto a plate and made his way over to the table.

"Well, if being away from me is ever too much to bear, you just let me know, and I'll find a way to remedy the situation."

"Do you need me to set an extra place at the table for your big head?" She gave a derisive sniff. "Although, come to think of it, I'm surprised it even fits in this kitchen."

Draco chuckled as he sat down.

"Now Granger, there's no need to be unkind. After all, it's not  _my_  fault you were dreaming about having your wicked way with me."

"I was not!" She stabbed her food with her fork, turning red.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me what you did dream, I'm just going to have to keep guessing, aren't I?"

"You're impossible." She rolled her eyes again.

Hermione thought for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons between telling him or letting him continue his outrageous assumptions.

"Fine, I'll tell you." She let out an exasperated breath. "I dreamed we were in the library and you kissed me. There, are you happy now?"

He was. But he still wanted more details, although he couldn't resist snorting, "figures it was in a library. What, was that some secret fantasy of yours, to snog me in the library at school?"

"Absolutely not!" She shot daggers at him. "And we were in the library here, not at Hogwarts."

Huh. Well, that was interesting. Was it a reflection of her feelings towards him now?

"But it wasn't us here either," Hermione clarified, probably realizing that didn't sound any better. "I mean, it was in the future."

Although Draco's lips remained curled in a satisfactory smile, he was puzzled.

"What do you mean, it was in the future? How could you tell?"

"Well, we were married."

"Married?" He almost choked on his food over the absurdity of that thought. "What made you think we were married?"

Hermione paused, perhaps expecting him to continue with a nasty comment about how he would never contaminate his family's pure bloodline by marrying her. When it didn't come, she answered his question.

"For starters, you accused me of only marrying you for your library."

"Ha, that sounds about right."

"And I had a horribly gaudy emerald ring on my left hand."

"Hey! The Malfoy emeralds have been in the family for generations and, I can most certainly assure you, are  _not_  gaudy!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but continued. "And then you called me Mrs. Draco Malfoy."

Draco let out a surprised laugh at this and grinned at her, thinking that did sound like the type of endearment he would use on her if they were really married. It would no doubt annoy her and serve to remind him that she was all his.

"Bet you loved that," was all he said, smugly.

"Not really," she answered dryly.

* * *

Draco was silent for a few moments and then surprised Hermione with what he asked next.

"Did we have kids?"

She nearly fell out of her chair at his question, but recovered in time to answer slowly, "no…but I was actually pregnant with twins. Boys. We were going to name them Harry and Ron."

"What?!" he exclaimed, horrified.

Hermione burst out laughing, relishing the fact that she had gotten him back at least a little for his earlier teasing.

"I'm joking! Relax. No, we didn't have any kids."

"Harry and Ron…" he muttered under his breath. "As if I would ever name my sons that." He thought for a moment, seemingly liking the idea of having sons. "No, I'd give them good strong names, like Draco Jr…and Scorpius."

"As if the world could handle another Draco Malfoy," Hermione mocked. "And Scorpius is a ridiculous name." She shook her head, but a small smile crept on her face. Trust him to pick a name like that.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Hermione returned her attention to her food, thinking that perhaps telling him had finally laid the matter to rest. Thank Merlin. Then Draco asked her a question that surprised her even more than his last.

"Were we happy together?"

She looked up at him in shock and saw him gazing at her intently.

"I-I guess…we were." She thought about it a little more herself, remembering their tender banter in her dream and how natural his arms had felt around her. How he had good-naturedly teased her, gently trying to get her to pay attention to him, and how she had happily relented.

"Yes," she admitted softly. "We did seem happy together."

Draco nodded slightly then went back to his food. Hermione continued watching him for a few moments, still perplexed as to why he had wanted to know that.

"And how about the kiss?" She saw his familiar obnoxious grin return. "How was that?"

"Adequate," Hermione replied primly, not at all prepared to share how, in her dream, Draco's kisses on her neck had sent chills down her spine all the way to her toes. Or how when their lips met it had been so intense it had jarred her out of her sleep.

"Adequate?" he mocked her. "I'm sure it was more than adequate! I bet it was the best kiss of your life." He smiled smugly, as he came to that conclusion.

Hermione just shook her head at his unabashed conceit but said nothing.

"Of course, your judgment would be flawed after dating Weasley." Draco baited her. "Kissing him is probably like kissing a Flobberworm, so you'd have nothing reliable to compare it to."

"For your information, I'm not dating Ron," she replied coolly. "Not that it's any of your business.

"Really?" He crossed his arms. "It sure seemed like you two had a thing for each other at school."

Hermione was shocked that Draco had picked up on her and Ron's feelings for each other. After all, Ron himself had barely noticed.

"Well, we did date for a bit…but it didn't last. Besides fighting Voldemort and helping Harry, we don't really have that much in common. We're actually better as friends."

* * *

Draco digested this information, not surprised. Even though rumor had it that the Gryffindor princess and redheaded Weasel were sure to be an item, Draco could never see it. Weasley was much too dense for her. Surprised that she was sharing this information with him, Draco decided to push his luck and ask what he really wanted to know.

"What about you and Potter?"

Hermione laughed. "Me and Harry? Definitely not! We're like brother and sister. We love each other but I've never thought about him like that, and I'm sure he's never felt that way about me. Besides, he and Ginny Weasley have started going together. They're very happy."

Draco let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Hermione's answer genuinely surprised him. One of the things that had irritated Draco about Potter so much was how everyone adored him. Since Harry actually had a brain between his ears, Draco had always assumed that Potter and Granger would become a couple. Apparently, he had been way off. The thought cheered Draco slightly and made him dislike Harry a little less.

Draco glanced back at Hermione and saw her staring down at her plate, a worried expression on her face.

"Malfoy?" she said carefully, her eyes troubled. "What I told you about Harry and Ginny…you're not going to use that against him somehow, are you? Or try to hurt Ginny?"

"What?" Draco said, feeling confused. "No, why would I do that?"

"Well, you brought me here to get to Harry. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Ginny because of me."

Oh, that did make sense. Of course, she would think that.

"No," he said gently, "I'm not going to try to hurt Ginny to get to Harry. I told you before, I really just want to talk to him. Bringing you here was the means to an end."

Hermione bit her lip, digesting this information, obviously battling with herself on whether she should believe him.

Draco felt a small twinge of pain at the realization that she still thought so poorly of him. Before he knew what he was doing, more words spilled out of his mouth.

"Granger? I'm sorry about…" This did not come naturally to him at all. "What happened to you…at the Manor. What Bellatrix did. It was despicable."

Torn from her inner battle, Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted. She clearly never expected him to say that. She was, for once, speechless.

He went on, running a hand through his hair, which quickly fell back over his forehead.

"I should have done something," he said quietly. "I was a coward."

Draco had no idea why he was telling her this. Of course, it was true. He had felt that way for a while now, but he didn't know why he had suddenly felt compelled to share that with her.

"Watching her do that to you was…horrible."

* * *

Hermione's mind flashed back to the events of that terrible evening and, in her mind, saw Draco watching her when she turned towards him, his face slightly blurry behind her tears.

As she examined her memory again and pictured his expression, it was the same as how she had always remembered it. He looked stony, his face void of emotion. But now, she looked closer and saw a hint of something more in his eyes—a hint of revulsion and fear.

She shook her head. "Bellatrix was the one who tortured me, not you. And even though I wanted you to help me, I think if you had tried, she would have killed me. And possibly you."

"I should have tried though." Draco's voice sounded full of real pain. "I should have done something…instead of just standing there."

"You didn't tell your family about Harry, when your father asked," she reminded him gently. "Why not? You knew it was him."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he answered honestly, "I mean, I didn't like any of you but…I didn't want you to die."

"Well, you probably saved Harry's life. So, you didn't do nothing."

"Yeah, real heroic," he snorted. "Answering 'I don't know' to a question. Historians will write about that one someday, I'm sure."

"Even the smallest actions can have big repercussions," she said wisely. "I probably wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't said what you did."

Draco didn't reply, looking lost in thought instead, brow furrowed. Hermione broke the silence by saying quietly, "You really do just want to talk to him. You're not going to hurt Harry…or me…are you?"

Draco's eyes found hers, and he answered softly. "No, I'm not going to hurt either of you."

As their gazes locked, Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from his. She saw so much behind them. Pain, fear, uncertainty, desperation, courage, and…something else she couldn't quite place. She tried to read what it was, but then Draco's bewildering stare slid away from hers and whatever she thought she may have seen slipped through her fingers.

* * *

"No, I'm not going to hurt either of you."

As he said the words, Draco held her eyes steadily with his own, hoping she would believe him. For a moment, he let his guard down, allowing her to look inside him and see everything that was there: The agony he held onto from living a life of hate for so long, how scared he was that his plan might fail, his mad desire for a new life, and his decision to do whatever it took to get there.

As he stared intently at Hermione, willing her to see him for who had become and who he still hoped to be, Draco realized that he was allowing her to see something else—how she had begun to mean something to him. How, against his will, she had invaded his mind and he had grown to care for her. He quickly looked away.

That was something else entirely. It a was too new—too unclear and delicate. He couldn't share that with her. Not now or ever.

He glanced back up, trying to gauge how much Hermione had seen in his face. She now stared off in the distance, deep in thought. He longed to know what she was thinking but didn't dare ask.

She looked back at him. "I…think I believe you," she said finally.

"Good." He let out a breath.

That would have to do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter was a fun one to write. Make my day and let me know what you think! Haha, Draco sure was happy about Hermione's dream, wasn't he? Figured it was about time I gave him a break ;)


	14. A Warning

Draco spent longer than usual in the shower that evening, turning over everything that had transpired between Hermione and himself that day. Talking to her was beginning to feel so easy and natural. Her kind nature and fascinating mind made him want to really know her and, in turn, let her know him.

He had shared so much with her. Parts of himself that he had never shared with anyone. He wondered now if that had been wise.

Even though he wanted Hermione to believe he meant her no harm, and he was happy that she seemed to now, he also felt worried. That had never been part of the plan. He hadn't told her much, but he worried he may be bringing her in too deep.

Although he had never planned to hurt her, Draco had originally thought that he would let her believe he was a threat. A Death Eater with a purpose. That way she wouldn't give him trouble. They would avoid each other, and Hermione wouldn't become involved. It had seemed so simple in his head before he brought her there.

Which brought Draco back to his other troubling thought, his growing feelings for her. He screwed up his face at the words and how weak they made him sound. Draco Malfoy never had feelings for anyone, least of all the snotty, know-it-all witch who liked nothing more than to show him up at everything in school.

But now, he wasn't sure. Originally, he had told himself it was all just physical. After all, she was an attractive witch and he was a warm-blooded wizard. It was only natural to notice her. But was that really all it was?

Draco's apology that night had been sincere. He had long thought about how wrong it had been for him to not try to help her that night at the Manor, but in the past, his thoughts had been for his own benefit. To prove to himself that he did have a conscience. He never imagined telling her.

Then tonight, he couldn't  _not_  tell her. It was like he had no control over his words. He had needed Hermione to know because, suddenly, the idea of her thinking ill of him was unbearable.

It was a warning sign and he knew it. But what it meant, exactly, he didn't know.

* * *

As Hermione sat in bed that night, reading  _Jane Eyre_ , her mind kept straying from the story. Instead, she found herself replaying the strange events of the day. Her and Draco's unusual conversation that morning, her strange dream in the afternoon, and finally, Draco's unexpected apology at dinner. Each event was more perplexing than the last and it left her feeling very confused.

She had meant what she had said about believing him. She really thought she did. There was only a small doubt left in her mind that he was just that good at tricking her and his words were all a ruse.

Every time she turned that option over in her mind, her thoughts returned to Draco's eyes and everything she had seen there. It had all seemed so real and raw. He couldn't really have faked all that, could he?

And what was the final thing she had just barely glimpsed in his expression before he had turned away?

Whatever it was, Hermione didn't think she had ever seen it in someone's eyes before. At least, not directed at her. And even though she couldn't place it, it scared her a little.

A soft knock on her door, followed by, "Granger, may I come in?" brought her out of her reverie.

"Yes," she said hesitantly, as she clumsily arranged the blankets around her lap, to cover herself a bit more.

Draco entered the room and walked over to her. He handed her another Dream-Blocking Draught and said, "I thought you might want this."

"Thank you." She took the pill from him and found her face flushing slightly as she looked up at him standing over her so close.

His hair was still wet from a shower and he had on loose dark green pajama bottoms. His chest, however, was exposed, save for a gray towel draped across one of his shoulders. She couldn't help but notice that his chest and muscles looked nicely toned, although she tried to avoid looking at them.

"I'll just grab some water." She slid out the other side of the bed, clumsily, mostly to put some distance between Draco and her. Images from her dream, of him holding and kissing her, flashed uninvitedly in her mind, and she felt her blush deepen. Luckily, her face was turned away from his.

She entered the bathroom and picked up a cup from the shelf. She looked in the mirror at her reddened face as she filled it and mentally scolded herself.

_Oh honestly, it's not like you've never seen an attractive man before!_

It was true, but she had also never thought about Draco Malfoy as  _being_  an attractive man before today. She knew he was, and had been throughout most of school, but his behavior had always made him seem loathsome. She had certainly not been one of his googly-eyed female Hogwarts admirers, although she knew there had been many.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss her thoughts as she slipped the sleeping draught under a towel on the counter. She would put it in the sock with the other one after Draco left.

With her cup full, she returned to the bedroom and made a show of bringing her closed hand up to her mouth, opening it as if she was dropping in the draught, sipping the water, and swallowing. Draco was staring at her but gave no inclination that anything was amiss.

"And here I didn't think you were actually going to take it," he mused in a serious tone.

"Wh-hat?" she faltered, heart skipping a beat. Did he know she was saving the draughts to drug him with?

A mischievous grin spread across Draco's face.

"I just assumed you'd be eager to have another dream about being Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Maybe something steamy about how we conceived those twins? You know, Draco Jr. and Draco the Third."

Hermione released a quick relieved breath then scowled and snatched a pillow off her bed. She threw it at him, hitting his shoulder and knocking off the towel.

"You're impossible!" she groaned. "Trust me, one horrifying nightmare was more than enough for today."

Bending to retrieve the towel, Draco chuckled. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

She tried to look stern but ended up fighting back a grin as she shook her head. "Draco the Third…that's even worse than Scorpius."

When he straightened up, towel in hand, Hermione caught sight of the thin scars on his chest and her voice turned serious again. "How…did you get those scars?"

Draco's eyes followed her line of vision.

"Potter's curse in sixth year. Sectumsempra."

"I told Harry not to use that book…" Hermione shook her head.

"Well, in his defense, I wasn't exactly playing nicely either." Draco grimaced, most likely remembering how he had tried to use the Cruciatus curse on Harry.

"Still…Harry told me what that curse did to you." She again recalled Harry's description of how Malfoy looked like he had instantly been slashed with a hundred knives. "No one deserves that."

"Not even me?" Draco smiled grimly but his tone was serious.

"No, not even you," she answered softly, truly meaning it.

The sincerity of her words seemed to startle Draco and he cleared his throat.

"Well, goodnight then," he said and swiftly exited the room.

* * *

As Draco walked down the hall back to his room, Hermione's words rang in his ears.

He was pretty sure a few days ago she would have used the Sectumsempra curse on him herself if she had the chance. But moments ago, he had seen real sorrow in her eyes when she had looked on the aftereffects of Potter's curse. That look, and what she had said, surprised Draco so much that he had left her room hastily, not trusting himself with what he might say or do next.

He wondered if Hermione knew that he'd tried to use the Cruciatus curse on Harry during their fight. Realizing she probably did filled Draco with fresh shame.

Looking back, he knew it wouldn't have worked for him at the time. A curse as awful as that, you really had to mean. He had begun exclaiming the words in anger but hadn't truly felt the depth of emotions needed to cast a curse like that. He knew that now.

Draco shook his head to clear it of unpleasant memories, which were instantly replaced by the lovely image of Hermione in her blue nightgown, looking at him with kind, concerned eyes.

Draco recognized the nightgown as being one of the many articles of clothing he had purchased for her, but it hadn't looked that good on the hanger. It was modest enough, not skimpy or see-through, but it was absolutely stunning on her.

As she had walked away from him to get a glass of water, it had flowed softly behind her like a breeze and he couldn't help but gaze at her striking shape and the delicate skin of her back.

When she had returned, he had to make a conscious effort to look only at her face. He didn't dare look anywhere else.

He rubbed his hands with his eyes. What was wrong with him? Yes, she was gorgeous, but he had been around plenty of beautiful women before and never felt awkward or unsure like this. Why was he trembling like a pubescent schoolboy at the sight of Granger, of all people?

He sighed. It made no sense. Perhaps he had just been deprived of human company for too long since going into hiding, and his mind was getting scrambled.

After all, he had never looked twice at her their entire time at Hogwarts, except maybe at the Yule Ball when everyone had noticed her. He recalled how his fellow male Slytherins had made crude remarks about her that night in the common room, but he hadn't joined in.

Not because he had been offended for her, but simply because he thought she was too far beneath him to even entertain the thought of touching her.

Now, however, he recalled a particularly revolting remark Theodore Nott had made about what he'd "like to do to the Mudblood," if he ever got his hands on her, and it made Draco's blood boil. He wished he had a Time-Turner so he could go back and punch Nott himself, instead of simply rolling his eyes like he had that night.

The memory brought back other ones from his school days, specifically the ones that involved him calling Hermione a Mudblood himself, which caused him to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He didn't think that way anymore, but knowing that he had, and had touted his beliefs so passionately, made him cringe.

Draco had been taught from birth that Muggle-born witches and wizards were so inept and undeserving of magic, he had honestly thought that they were not magically at the same level as himself or other Purebloods. It had seemed like a mathematical impossibility.

Then he met Hermione Granger, who had surpassed him in almost every subject (save broom-riding) and he had been forced to face the harsh reality that perhaps everything he had been raised to believe was not correct.

Of course, the fact that Granger was best friends with his mortal enemy didn't help, or that his father had berated Draco for her making top of the class over him. So, Draco had preferred to ridicule and degrade her instead of facing the fact that she was actually a very talented witch, every bit of deserving of her magic as Draco was.

He thought back to Hermione's story about her parents and how her mother believed that Hermione's magic came from her father's self-sacrifice and love for her. It made sense. Although, according to those standards, Draco should have been born with the magical abilities of a teacup.

He hadn't thought much recently about the torment he had unleashed on Hermione at school, since most of his real anger and jealousy had always been directed at Potter, but he had no doubt that she remembered it all keenly.

No wonder she despised him so intensely, even now. He wondered if she still believed he thought that about her. Probably. After all, it was the creed of the Death Eaters and she had seen his Dark Mark with her own eyes.

He lay down on his bed and turned out the lights with his wand. Having feelings for Hermione Granger was about as sensible as inviting Dolores Umbridge over for a spot of tea. Hermione would never be able to see him as anything more than the spoiled, arrogant, cruel bully turned villainous Death Eater.

But as he drifted off to sleep that night, he wished she would.

* * *

_Draco heard a sad voice calling his name. It was distant and feminine and, whoever it was, she sounded like she was in real distress._

_With his mind foggy, his first thought was that it was his mother._

_"Draco!" the voice called to him again._

Hermione.

_He quickly threw off his bedsheets and grabbed his wand. As he made his way towards her door, she called his name again. Unlike the last time she had screamed and woken him, her calls did not sound terrified as much as they did incredibly sad._

_He unlocked and opened her door, illuminating the room with light._

_"Draco?" She was sitting up in bed, arms tightly hugging her legs and her head resting on her knees. She turned to face him, and he could see tears streaming down her cheeks._

_He was beside her in a second. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Did you have another nightmare?"_

_She nodded._

_"Do you want to talk about it?"_

_She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together._

_Unsure what to do next, he said, "I'll get you a drink of water."_

_"No." She grabbed his arm as he made to move away. "Just—stay with me."_

_"Okay," he said softly and sat on the edge of the bed. She released his arm and he felt incredibly clueless about how to comfort her. After a minute, he placed a hesitant hand on her back._

_"It's alright," he said, gently, "it was just a dream." Silent tears continued to stream down her face, and her lower lip trembled._

_"Whatever you saw, it wasn't real. It was just your mind playing tricks on you."_

_She shook her head slightly and more tears continued to fall._

_He hated seeing her like this. It felt like his heart was being torn apart in little pieces. And he didn't seem to be doing a very good job of comforting her._

_Unsure if it was the right thing to do or not, he moved closer and carefully wrapped both arms around her so he was holding her against him, the back of her head resting against his chest._

_"I'll stay with you as long as you need." He spoke softly in her ear, which was now close to his lips. "It's okay to cry. I'm not going anywhere."_

_A few minutes passed, and gradually her sobs lessened. Every so often she would let out a few shuddery breaths and he would hold her a little tighter._

_Merlin, she felt good. Her hair tickled his face and smelled faintly like strawberries. The way she fit into his arms felt so natural, like she was meant to be there. He didn't want to let her go._

_Time seemed to stand still but, eventually, her crying turned to steady breathing. Draco was glad that she seemed to have calmed down, but he made no move to release her. His heart beat fast in his chest and he wondered if she could hear it._

_Finally, he murmured softly in her ear, "Feel better now?"_

_She didn't answer but instead, voice trembling, said, "He was there—Voldemort. You brought us to him."_

_Draco felt his body tense. She went on._

_"Me and Harry. Voldemort was proud of you. Said you'd done your job well." Her voice shook more now but she continued. "Then he killed Harry…and tortured me. And you just watched."_

_Her words cut him deeper than the Sectumsempra curse Harry had used on him in sixth year. Draco turned her gently to face him, but said fiercely, "Listen to me. I would_ never _do that."_

_He looked at her intensely, searching her eyes for signs that she believed him. "I would_ never _hurt you. And I would die myself before I handed you over to Voldemort. Do you believe me?"_

_Her sad eyes blinked, but she said nothing._

_"Hermione, do you believe me?" he asked again, desperately, gripping her shoulders. She had to believe him. She had to._

_"Please…believe me," he begged in a soft, strangled voice._

_"I do," she replied, finally._

_Relief flooded through him and before Draco knew what he was doing, his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her passionately._

_Kissing her out of gratitude that she believed him. Kissing her out of relief that she was safe. Kissing her out of desperation because he knew now just how much she meant to him._

_Hermione responded to his kiss and Draco was elated. Could she possibly be feeling for him the same things he felt for her?_

_But then suddenly, he wasn't kissing her anymore. He blinked, confused, because she was no longer in his arms._

_He turned to his side and saw her stiff body lying beside him on the bed._

_"No" he breathed, horrified._

_He reached out a hesitant hand to touch her own and it was ice cold._

_Then he looked up at her face and saw her vacant, lifeless eyes staring back at him._

_"No! Hermione, no!" he screamed, shaking her shoulders._

_She was dead. And he had killed her._

* * *

Draco sat straight up in bed, his heart about to beat right out of his chest. Panicked, ragged breathing escaped his lips, but he felt like he was suffocating.

As he looked around his dark room, he frantically searched for his wand.

_Just a dream. Just a dream._

_Lumos!_

He filled the room with light, but it did nothing to alleviate his panic. He needed to see her. To know she was alive.

He threw open his door and raced down the hall. He stopped outside her door. He couldn't burst in there and give her a heart attack. He took a long, deep breath, then unlocked and opened the door.

"Hermione?" he whispered, softly, the first time he had ever used her first name, besides in his nightmare.

"Hermione?" he whispered again, a little louder and more demanding.

"Malfoy?" she sounded sleepy and confused.

The illuminated end of his wand gave him just enough to see her figure sitting up in the darkness, looking at him with tired, perplexed eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, blinking at him.

"Nothing." He breathed a deep sigh of relief, so thankful to see her alive. "Nothing's wrong. I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep," he told her gently.

She nodded, then lay back down and pulled her blankets close around her.

He stole one last look at her before closing and locking the door, extinguishing his light.

He slowly made his way back to his room and sat down on his bed in the dark. His racing heart had slowed but his racing mind would not.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep her here. Her being here with him put her in great danger. He would take her home tomorrow and wash his hands of this.

And then what? She'd contact Harry, and Draco would be right back where he started.

Only this time he would have so much more to lose.

Without his plan, Voldemort would find him.

Although Draco was skilled in Occlumency, he knew it wouldn't be enough to stop the Dark Lord from reading his mind. Draco had seen for himself how Voldemort would Crucio his victims until their minds were so defenseless their Occlumency failed them.

Voldemort would do that to Draco and, while reading his mind, discover Hermione there. He would know that Draco now had the ultimate weakness, someone he truly cared about. Voldemort would hunt her down and kill her just to torment Draco.

He'd even probably tell her that Draco had betrayed her to him, just like she had described in Draco's dream. Then she would die, much like she had lived, hating him.

Draco placed his head in his hands, cursing himself for ever bringing her into this. He had known involving her could be dangerous for her, but he could never have anticipated just how much. He had never planned on her meaning something to him. And now that she did, he had increased her risk ten-fold.

He cursed again. He never should have let her get close. He never should have allowed himself to feel what he was feeling for her. What right did he have to feel that way about her? She had friends who cared about her. Who loved her, even. Weasley, who was her inferior in every way, deserved her a million times more than Draco ever would.

Draco turned his options over in his mind. He couldn't let Hermione go now. To do so would be too dangerous for her. He needed to see this through until Potter arrived. At least she would be safe with Harry.

In the meantime, Draco needed to distance himself from her. Every day Hermione had been here, his feelings for her had grown, putting her more at risk. He couldn't allow that anymore.

Remembering how good holding and kissing her in his dream had felt, Draco knew distancing himself from her would not be easy. But it had to be done.

His dream had been a warning. He had cared for her and it had killed her.

There was only one thing he could do to keep her safe. He had to be the old Draco Malfoy. He had to make sure she hated him.

* * *

**A/N: I'm curious, did any of you think Draco's dream was real? Sigh, I so wanted it to be (minus the part where Hermione's dies, of course) but, alas, the story isn't ready for that just yet. Let me know your thoughts!**


	15. Ice Cold

As Hermione dried her hair that morning, she was once again lost in thought. She glanced at the towel where she had hidden the Dream-Blocking Draught last night and sighed. She had since placed it with the other in her dresser drawer.

She only needed one more draught and she would be able to put her plan in action. In one more day, she might be able to escape. But for some reason the thought didn't make her as happy as it originally had.

After Draco's sincere apology last night, she found herself becoming more drawn to him. What had prompted him to say those words to her, and most importantly, did she really believe that he meant her no harm?

She did. Which made her contemplate not trying to run away, and instead staying and talking to him.

It would be difficult, she knew. He had previously thwarted any attempts she had made to get him to open up about what he wanted to speak to Harry about. She wondered if there was any way she could get him to tell her, and if he did, whether she would believe him.

She had a feeling Draco was in danger and she didn't want to leave him like that. But she knew she first and foremost had a duty to keep Harry safe. Even though Draco had said he didn't want to hurt Harry either, she still worried that he might, if he was desperate.

She made a decision. She would try to get Draco to tell her the truth today. If he refused, she would go ahead with her plan to escape.

Of course, there was the chance that Harry would arrive today and then she wouldn't be faced with making that decision. She mentally did the math of how long she had been there. Suddenly, she realized that today was Christmas Eve.

How odd that tomorrow she would be spending Christmas with Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her that last Christmas, she would have been horrified at the thought. But now, it didn't seem that awful to her. She shook her head and made her way downstairs.

When she entered the kitchen, she smelled coffee brewing and saw Draco eating a plate of food at the table, staring gloomily at the wall. He didn't greet her when she walked in, but she said, "good morning."

He frowned, narrowing his eyes, but said nothing.

She regarded him curiously while she poured herself a cup of coffee. Why did he seem so angry? She recalled how he had come into her room last night, called her name, and then left just as suddenly. Had something happened she didn't know about?

She glanced at the stove but didn't see a meal waiting for her like there had been other mornings.

"Is there any food?" she asked curiously, wondering if she just hadn't seen it.

"For heaven's sake, Granger, I'm not your house elf!" he barked at her. "If you're hungry, make something yourself. I'm not here to wait on you."

Draco got up abruptly, then brushed past her and placed his dishes in the sink.

She stared at him, taken aback by his harsh words and demeanor.

"I know that," she said, "I was just asking." She cocked her head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he answered curtly, "I have work to do." He stalked out of the room, leaving Hermione standing there, very perplexed.

Where had that come from? Annoyed, she stared after where he had stormed out. He was acting as cold as he had when he first brought her there. Perhaps even icier. Was she a fool for thinking that things had warmed between them over the past few days?

She shook her head. Whatever it was, he would calm down and she would try to get him to talk about it later. He had mentioned something about having nightmares in the past too. Maybe he just hadn't slept well last night.

She ate her breakfast and stared out the window, feeling lonely.

* * *

After breakfast, Hermione took a long walk outside, enjoying the cool winter air. She hoped Draco would be in a better mood by lunchtime, but when she came in to eat, he was nowhere to be found.

She made herself a simple sandwich and ate in silence, expecting him to walk in at any moment but he didn't. After she cleaned the kitchen she started down the hall and entered the library.

Draco was sitting at his usual desk, but instead of facing the windows, he had moved his chair to the other side, so his back was to them and he was facing the wall.

"Hello," she said quietly but got no response. She walked over to the couch and sat down. On the far end, sat  _A Christmas Carol_  from when Draco had been reading it yesterday. Hermione picked it up and opened it where a scrap of parchment was sticking out. She wondered if he was enjoying it.

With the book in hand, she walked over to him, "It's fitting that you're reading this now, since it's Christmas tomorrow. Do you like it? One of my favorite parts is coming up. It's really—"

"I'm not interested in reading your pathetic little Muggle book, Granger," he interrupted her in a cold voice, not looking up from his books and parchment.

Hermione stopped and stared at him, her anger starting to rise. "What is your problem?" she demanded. "Why are you acting this way? Are you mad at me?"

She wondered if he somehow knew about her plan to escape. But even so, she hardly thought he could blame her for that. After all, he had brought her here against her will. It was only natural that she would try to leave.

Draco glanced up with a hard sneer on his face but didn't make eye contact with her.

"No, I'm not mad at you. That would imply that I feel anything towards you and I most certainly don't. I do, however, wish you would stop pestering me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She was fuming now. "Yesterday, you wanted to know my life story and now you don't even want to talk to me? I thought—"

"You thought what, exactly?" He looked her square in the face, an angry glint in his eyes. "That we were friends?" He scoffed at her. "Hardly. We are not, and will never be,  _friends_. So don't waste your breath, begging for my attention. I can't be bothered with you." He looked back down at his work, as if the conversation was over.

"You're despicable, you know that?" Hermione said dangerously, "I never  _asked_  to be your friend." She gestured wildly with her hands, her voice rising with each word. "I never  _asked_  to come here! And now suddenly, I'm  _bothering_  you?"

She took another step towards him, but Draco still would not look at her. She let out a mirthless laugh, talking to herself more than him.

"I can't believe I actually thought you had changed. I can't believe I thought you were anything more than a cruel, spineless Death Eater. You will  _never_  change, Draco Malfoy! You are an arrogant, selfish coward." She paused for a moment to catch her breath.

"I can't even look at you," she said with pure contempt, then tossed the book she had been holding onto his desk and stormed out of the room.

* * *

After she left, Draco's hands started shaking and his breath became ragged. Every word that had come out of his mouth had been a lie, but her knew every one that had come out of Hermione's was pure truth.

He picked up the small red book she had thrown at him and turned it over and over in his hands, swallowing hard.

He wanted to chase after her, to apologize and explain why he had behaved so dreadfully. He wanted to tell her about his dream last night and how nothing, not even all the horrible things he had seen during his time as a Death Eater, had scared him as much as seeing her lifeless body had.

He wanted to tell her about how he had kissed her in his dream. How he still wanted to kiss her, like she was his lifeline, the only bright thing in his world of darkness.

But he did none of that. He couldn't. The damage had been done and it had the effect he had wanted. She didn't even want to look at him. He had no doubt that their paths would barely cross for whatever amount of time she had left there. But the thought did not cheer him, instead it filled him with grief.

He sat there, eyes empty, mourning what he didn't even know he had, until it had already been lost to him.

* * *

Hermione retreated to her room and slammed the door. As she sank down on the bed, tears immediately began sliding down her cheeks. She hugged her arms, willing herself not to cry. He wasn't worth it. She certainly knew that now.

But cry she did. She cried over everything Draco had said to her. Over the hatred in his voice, and the way he had looked at her. Like she was nothing. It filled her with so much pain, her heart physically ached.

_Had_  she thought they were friends? Maybe. Yesterday it had seemed like they could be. Obviously, Draco had thought so too, and it terrified him. But he would never be friends with someone like her. So, he shut her out and hid behind his walls of hate and prejudice.

In that instant, Hermione despised him. How dare he toy with her emotions like that? Open up to her, apologize even, and then pull away like she was nothing more to him than a speck of dirt.

_No, not dirt,_  she thought,  _mud._   _Mudblood._  That's all she was to him and all she would ever be.

Hermione dried her eyes and sat up.

She would leave. She would escape tomorrow and this whole horrible nightmare would be over. She would find Harry and warn him about Malfoy. She would make sure Draco never got near her or Harry again.

She would leave Draco to his own dark destruction. The one he had prepared for all his life. The thought should have cheered her, knowing that he would soon likely meet a horrible end, just like his father had.

But it didn't. Instead it made her heart ache with fresh grief.

She grabbed her book from her nightstand, to try to drown out the conflicting thoughts in her head.

She forced herself to focus on the story, feeling as solitary and lost as Jane Eyre herself, wandering the lonely moors.

* * *

Draco sat staring at the book in his hand for what seemed like minutes but was likely hours. He knew with every passing moment, a wall was being built around Hermione's heart, closing her off from him even more.

Eventually, he let out a pained sigh and opened the book he was holding. Draco found the spot where he had left off yesterday and began reading. Anything to quiet the painful voices in his head.

Soon, the story sucked him in and he came to the part where Marley's ghost appeared to Scrooge at night in his bedroom.

_How is this a Christmas story?_  Draco wondered. Wasn't Christmas about singing carols, decorating trees, and being with those you love? Since when did it involve rattling chains and moaning ghouls?

Without even thinking, he opened his mouth to tell Hermione that her taste in books was strange, to say the least, but then he remembered she wasn't there.

The pain in his heart hit him afresh but he kept reading.

The ghost of Scrooge's old business partner, Jacob Marley, had come to him, warning Scrooge of the three Ghosts who would visit him that night. Horrified, Scrooge beheld the fate Marley was chained to in the afterlife.

_"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself._

_"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again._   _"Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business. Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The deals of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"_

The words struck Draco like no others ever had before. He read them over and over again, as they sank into his very being.

Suddenly it all made sense to him. He had been doing it all wrong, his whole life.

For as long as he could remember, his entire life had been about _him._  His wants, his needs, his prejudice, his family name. He had never made room for anyone else.

Until now. Until he had allowed a certain brunette witch to pierce his being. She was the first person he ever cared about before himself.

And now, even that was in ruin.

Could he ever repair it? Any of it? Could his life ever be more than it had been? Could it ever benefit anyone other than himself?

His eyes returned to the page, hungry for an answer. He needed to see if it could tell him what to do.

* * *

Draco continued reading until his stomach growled noisily. He had skipped lunch earlier to avoid seeing Hermione, and now his head ached from hunger and strain.

He marked his place and closed the book.

He had just gotten to the part where the Ghost of Christmas Past showed Scrooge the vision of his true love leaving his younger self. That had certainly struck a chord. Draco wanted to fly into the pages of the book and shake young Scrooge with all his might. Tell him he was a fool and, if he let her go, he would be making the single biggest mistake of his life.

But he, like Scrooge, was helpless to change the things of the past. The scene unfolded, and Scrooge's love was lost to him. Again.

Draco fixed a pathetic dinner for himself, not really caring what he was making, then carried it up to his room. Once there, he shut his door and opened the book to read as he ate.

After a few moments, he heard a knock on the door. He froze, then slowly stood up to open it.

Hermione was standing on the other side, back rigid, staring straight past him, not at him, as she said stiffly, "I'd like another Dream-Blocking Draught, please."

"Of course," he answered quietly, then turned to his nightstand to get one for her.

As he walked back, she still would not look at him. He saw her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying.

"Hermione…" he began, not quite sure what he was going to say, but knowing he had to say something.

"Save it." She cut him off abruptly, her brown eyes met his for a moment and they were hard with disdain and pain. She grabbed the draught from his hand and turned quickly on her heel. She slammed the door as Draco stared after her.

He sighed. The damage had been done. Just like he had planned it. He sat gloomily on his bed and opened his book again.

Draco read for the rest of the evening until the story was complete. He wept when the vision showed the future of Tiny Tim dead and the Cratchit family in mourning, and Draco shuddered when Scrooge was shown the vision of his own grave, dark and cold, with no one there to mourn him.

Draco knew he would need to take a Dream-Blocking Draught tonight too or he would have nightmares about his own cold, dark future grave. No one would mourn him either.

And finally, Draco's heart soared with giddy excitement when Scrooge awoke Christmas morning, a new man, with a second chance. Tiny Tim had not died. Scrooge had not been buried in a shadowy forgotten grave. He had a chance to live the rest of his life, fully, caring for others and receiving their love in return.

When Draco closed the book, he felt peace he had never felt before in his life. The clock downstairs struck midnight and he knew what he had to do. It was Christmas. A day for miracles. A day for second chances. He had to make things right or he would regret it for as long as he lived.

Yes, his feelings for Hermione put her in danger. But so did Harry's feelings for her. That was how caring for someone worked. Voldemort had always called it the greatest weakness a person could have, but Draco knew he was wrong. It was not their greatest weakness, it was their greatest strength.

Although Draco was still scared for Hermione, he knew now that he would never abandon her. He would die a hundred times over before he let Voldemort touch her. Draco would stay by her side until Voldemort was defeated, if she would let him, and protect her himself. And he would tell her so.

But first he had to get her to listen. And suddenly he knew what he had to do. He had to give Hermione Granger the best Christmas she had ever had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was such a sad chapter :( But hopefully, the ending left you feeling a bit optimistic of what might come. Share your thoughts with me because I love reading them!


	16. Winter Wonderland

When Hermione awoke that morning, she was greeted by a pain in her heart unlike one she had ever experienced. Waking up and remembering the events of the previous day made her heart hurt afresh.

The clock downstairs struck eight and she glumly remembered it was Christmas.

_Happy Christmas,_ she thought morosely to herself.

Her heart ached for her parents. For her friends. She wished she was at the Burrow, celebrating with the Weasleys, even though Harry had told her he and Ron likely wouldn't be back from their mission by then.

Really, she wished she was anywhere but where she was.

She got out of bed, resolving to not even think about the fact that it was Christmas. She would treat it like any other day. That way it wouldn't be too painful when she was forced to walk the halls of the lonely house, or was ignored by Draco and his cold eyes.

She had three Dream-Blocking Draughts. She could attempt to put her plan into action, although if Draco kept himself as distant from her as he had the previous day, she might not have a chance to put the pills in his food.

But she had to try.

She grabbed the sock containing the three draughts from her dresser and headed to the bathroom.

After showering, she dressed in a red knit sweater dress with black leggings and comfortable leather boots. She chose the outfit not for her Christmas spirit (which was non-existent) but for the fact that the dress had two small knit pockets in the front where she could hide the crushed sleeping draughts until she had a chance to use them.

In the bathroom, Hermione emptied the small cosmetic container of eye cream. She washed the container thoroughly, dried it, then laid out a thin piece of paper she had ripped out of the back of one of her books (feeling most sacrilegious as she did so). She crushed the pills into the paper with the bottom of the metal soap dispenser until they were a fine powder. Carefully, she poured the powder into the container, taking care not to spill any of it. She needed three full capsules if she were to expect it to knock Draco unconscious.

When she was satisfied, she twisted the cap on tightly, checking it twice to make sure it wouldn't come loose, and secured the container in her pocket. She looked in the mirror and was pleased to see the small thin vessel did not make an obvious lump behind the thick material of her dress.

Heading downstairs, Hermione knew Draco would have already eaten breakfast because it was almost nine, so she was not surprised to see the kitchen vacant. She would have to try to catch him at lunch or dinner. To avoid his suspicion, she also had to be careful she didn't act too eager to cook for him. Unsure if the powder would have any taste, she needed to make sure she hid it in something with a lot of flavor.

As she approached the stove, Hermione was surprised to find a hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes waiting for her. She ignored it, preparing herself a bowl of oatmeal instead. She wasn't about to eat anything Draco had made for her after everything he had said yesterday.

She ate a solitary breakfast and gazed out the window as soft snowflakes fell from the sky. At least it would be a white Christmas.

After eating, Hermione decided she would take what, she hoped, would be her last walk around the grounds. Even though she wanted nothing more than to leave, she had grown somewhat fond of what she had started thinking of as her "winter wonderland." It was so peaceful out there, and the way all the trees looked covered in snow and ice made her feel like she was walking in a crystal palace.

She put on the thick, rich cloak that she'd worn since she got there, along with her gloves, scarf, and hat. As her feet crunched in the snow and gentle flakes fell on her face, she felt a slight return to peace. Soon, she would be home. Then she could put this all behind her.

Every so often, she brought her eyes towards the kitchen window, in search of movement. She needed to watch out for Draco in case he started preparing lunch for himself. As much as she disliked the idea of being in the same room with him, she had to try to get the Dream-Blocking Draught powder into his food.

She continued that way for a while, walking and looking at the window, all the while trying to mentally prepare herself for seeing him again and wondering what she would say. Very little, she decided. With any luck, she could prepare her own food alongside his, in silence, and when his back was turned, she could slip the powder into his food.

If she could accomplish that, this nightmare would finally be over.

* * *

Draco entered the kitchen after returning from a busy morning and was slightly upset to see that Hermione hadn't eaten the breakfast he had prepared earlier for her. Not that he blamed her, after he had barked at her about not being her house elf yesterday.

He pulled his eyebrows together in concern, wondering if she had left her room or eaten at all. As he moved to the window, he caught sight of her outside, looking, if possible, more beautiful than ever with the gentle snow swirling around her.

His stomach clenched nervously. Now that he had decided that he was going to be honest with her, he was met with fresh fear over what he was prepared to tell her.

After all, there was a very real chance that she would reject him or think him a liar. Why would she not? She had opened herself up to him, and he had ridiculed and scorned her. He would be lucky if she even spoke to him at all.

He took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for everything he was about to do. He needed to go slowly and repair their battered relationship piece by piece. He didn't know if she would forgive him for everything he had done. But he had to try.

His resolution to make things right had seemed so perfect last night, when he was caught up in the joy of a happy ending of the story he had read. Now that he was faced with putting his plan into action, he found it would be much more difficult than he thought

Ridiculously, the image of him running up to her with a large, prize-winning turkey like Scrooge had at the end of the book flashed in his mind.

_If only it was that simple_ , he thought, wryly, pushing the foolish thought from his mind.

He put his cloak and scarf on, then opened the door to join her in her winter wonderland.

* * *

Hermione was standing by the large pine tree in the middle of the grounds when she heard the soft click of a door shutting. Surprised, she turned around and saw Draco striding towards her. She swallowed then turned her back to him.

She had anticipated seeking him out. She hadn't imagined that he would come find her. Suddenly, she felt very nervous, then scolded herself.  _She_  had done nothing wrong. She should not feel nervous. Had he come to insult her some more? she wondered. Staring up at the tree, she recommitted to stand firm on her decision to ignore him.

Draco stopped beside her and asked gently, "Can I speak with you?"

"No," she replied emotionlessly, not looking his way.

"Can I walk with you?"

"No." Her expression and tone didn't change.

"Can I stand here awkwardly next to you?" He sounded faintly amused at her stubbornness.

Realizing he wasn't going to give up, Hermione sighed, exasperated.

"Do what you want. It's your house." She turned to stride away, but he caught her arm.

"Hermione, please. Wait."

She turned to him, eyes flashing with anger. Wrenching her arm out of his grip, she snarled, "Don't touch me!"

Draco held his hands up in defense. "Sorry, look, I just want to talk, okay?"

"Why? So you can tell me one thing and then take it back tomorrow? I'm not interested in anything you have to say." Hemione turned and began walking away.

He didn't follow her, but instead said, "I had a dream about you."

She hesitated but didn't turn around or speak.

"The night before last. In it, you…died." His voice was pained. "And it was my fault."

Now she stopped completely. Dread filled her heart. What did that mean?

"It was awful…I-I'd never been more scared in my entire life," he admitted. "And I watched Voldemort kill my father."

She turned towards him, surprised. She hadn't known that.

Draco's eyes found hers and he ran a distressed hand through his hair, which stuck up somewhat due to the wet snow that had been falling on it.

"I panicked. I thought that if I kept you away from me, made you hate me again, that you'd be safer."

He hung his head slightly. "It was wrong of me. But that's why I said all those awful things to you yesterday. I didn't mean a word of it."

Hermione stood dumbstruck. She didn't know what to say. Finally, she spoke.

"I…don't know if I believe you," she answered honestly.

He nodded. "I understand." Then he swallowed.

"Will you do me a favor?"

"What?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" He looked sad, but hopeful.

She hadn't been expecting that. "I-I guess so," she answered slowly. Realizing this might give her a chance to escape, she nodded more definitely. "Yes."

A genuine, relieved smile flashed on Draco's face. "Right. Okay…good." He nodded. "Tonight at six, then?"

"Sure." What was she getting herself into? But before she could ask, Draco turned and strode back into the house.

* * *

That afternoon, Hermione woke up in her bed after falling asleep while reading. She made her way to go downstairs, when Draco met her at the landing, blocking her path.

The sight of him caused her to temporarily forget her anger toward him, as she burst out laughing.

"What happened to you?"

Never had she seen Draco Malfoy look anything but impeccable. Even in their sixth year, when he had been given the task to kill Dumbledore and he had looked gray and sallow, he hadn't looked unkempt.

Now, there were large flour and food stains on his dark shirt and trousers. His hair stuck up in several different directions, and was that a strand of tinsel on his shoulder?

He made a sour face. "Christmas is a hazard."

"Apparently," she quipped, then softened towards him somewhat. "Let me help."

"No." He raised his chin confidently. "Everything's under control. Just give me another hour."

"Really?" She was doubtful. "I don't mind and, honestly, I'm bored anyway."

"No," he said again, more firmly. "I want it to be…a surprise."

She gave him a puzzled look. Letting Draco Malfoy surprise her seemed about as good of an idea as letting Hagrid pick out her next pet.

Before she could argue with him, Draco gave her a slight push back towards her bedroom. "Now go back in there and get ready for dinner." He added cheekily, "Really, you look a mess."

Hermione couldn't help but snort, "You're one to talk." But he had already started walking back down the stairs, calling up to her.

"I mean it, Granger, don't come down until I get you."

Slightly perturbed that he was ordering her about, but for lack of anything else to do, she did retreat to her bathroom and look at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was extra bushy and sticking up all over the place after her nap.

She sighed but decided she may as well pass some time by fixing it. She pulled out the curling iron she had seen in the drawer days before and a few hair styling products. Before too long, she had tamed her unruly curls into softer versions, leaving just enough as is, to have a natural look.

Well, that had killed all of ten minutes. She opened a few of the cabinets and pulled out some cosmetics that she recognized and knew how to apply. It was Christmas after all, she may as well look nice.

She dusted some blush on her cheeks, as well as some bronzer on her cheekbones and highlighter, then she blended them all together. It gave her cheeks an attractive flush and highlighted her cheekbones. She curled her eyelashes and added a bit of mascara, then finished her look red lipstick to match her dress.

Gazing at her reflection, she was happy with the results and put everything away, then returned to her bed to read and wait.

Without the distraction of getting ready, Hermione found herself wrestling with the overactive thoughts racing through her mind. What was Draco doing down there? What else was he going to tell her? Would she have the chance to escape tonight? Would she want to?

She still had no answers to those questions when suddenly a loud crash came from downstairs followed by Draco cursing.

_That doesn't sound too promising_ , she mused, although it did make her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this wasn't the most exciting chapter, so I apologize for that. Sorry for drawing out the suspense but I felt it was important to get an insight into how Hermione is feeling about everything. Tomorrow's chapter is the big one so I will try to post it as soon as I am able! Please review!


	17. A Christmas Carol

Draco could not for the life of him understand why anyone would voluntarily, every year, do everything that he had just done for one day of celebration.

However, as he stood back and surveyed his work, he was quite pleased.

In the corner of the living room, in perfect view of the dining table, a large pine tree stood, decorated to the brim. Earlier that day, he had magicked one in from the backyard and then proceeded to levitate decoration after decoration onto it.

At the Muggle store earlier, he had been completely bewildered, trying to figure out what he needed to get to decorate a Christmas tree. Then he had seen one on display that looked perfect.

The lights were every color, not stark white like his mother had always decorated their tree with, and they flashed and twinkled at random in their own happy dance. He had been drawn to them because they reminded him of Hermione—lively, unpredictable, and bright.

Then he had chosen a variety of glass balls and ornaments to add to the tree in many shapes, sizes, and colors.

Next had come silver tinsel which had ended up everywhere, but now looking at the effect it had with the lights in the dark, it was perfect. The entire tree shimmered and sparkled, coming to life.

Finally, the finishing touch had been a delicate angel, holding lights of her own. Draco couldn't help but think she looked a lot like Hermione with her rich brunette curls and soft brown eyes. Merlin, what was happening to him? He sounded like a sap.

In the kitchen, he had laid out the meal he had prepared, one that the Muggle bookstore owner had assured him was a traditional Christmas feast. She had found him the recipe book to show him how to prepare it and now on the table sat a roast turkey with gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and warm rolls with butter. A bottle of sparkling champagne was also waiting on ice.

The lights were dim in the dining room where Draco had also placed a variety of candles. In the background, soft Christmas carols played from the radio Hermione had inadvertently summoned.

Everything looked perfect. Even though he had nearly died wrestling the tree, the lights, the ornaments, and that stupid turkey, it had all come together. He hoped she liked it.

Draco took a moment to clean his shirt, pants, and hair with his wand, then placed his wand in his jacket where he also had her gift.

Then he slipped his jacket on and started upstairs to find her.

He knocked on her door and when she opened it, he couldn't help but smile.

"You look beautiful."

"Th-thank you," Hermione stammered as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Draco chuckled to himself about how unaware she seemed of her own presence. It endeared her to him more. She looked absolutely stunning with her hair full and her features vibrant.

He took one of her hands in his, gently, happy when she didn't pull away.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?" Now she looked even more uncomfortable.

"For the full effect." He rolled his eyes but smiled. "I promise nothing bad will happen."

She frowned for a moment but then complied.

He led her carefully down the stairs, guiding her when needed, and kept a close eye to make sure she didn't open hers.

When they reached the bottom, he released her hand.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione Granger."

She opened her eyes and beheld what Draco hoped was the most beautiful Christmas tree she had ever seen. She gasped, surprised, taking in the way the lights danced and shimmered. The tree really was full, vibrant, and happy.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked softly, although he had kept his eyes on her the entire time and thought the way she lit up was more spectacular than the tree itself.

"It's perfect!" she said breathlessly. "Did you really do all of this? Why?"

Hermione looked around to survey the room, taking in the delicate nativity scene nestled on top of the fireplace mantel, and in the kitchen, the array of white and red candles placed throughout the room, as well as the full meal on the table.

Draco shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling a bit awkward himself. "I remembered you saying at the Ministry Christmas party how sad you were that you couldn't spend Christmas with your parents, and how much you loved their traditions. I thought I'd bring a bit of it to you."

"Thank you," she said, sounding like she really meant it.

He led her into the dining room and pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and surveyed the food on the table. "You cooked all this? That's so much work!"

He felt proud, although reminded himself that they hadn't tasted the food yet, so he shouldn't get ahead of himself.

"I just followed the book," he said modestly, although a few hours earlier he had been cursing at said book.

"It actually smells really good!" She sounded shocked.

"Thanks for your confidence," he teased.

As they began eating, Draco was relieved that the food did taste good. There were a few areas where he made mental notes for improvement but, overall, dinner seemed like a success.

He turned his mind back to Hermione. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he knew he had to start slow.

"I finished the book," he said, " _A Christmas Carol_."

"You did?" She looked up, curiously. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, quite a lot. Although it did seem a little dark for a Christmas story, at first."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, it has some intense moments. But I like that about it, you know? It really brings a depth to the Christmas season that a lot of other typical Christmas tales don't. What was your favorite part?"

Draco smiled. He had been wanting to talk to her about the book almost the entire time he had been reading it, so he was happy to have the opportunity now.

"Well, the ending was the most triumphant moment but, overall, I really liked the flashbacks to Scrooge's past. It really helped me understand his character…I guess I could relate."

"Yes," she said slowly, as if analyzing the similarities between Scrooge and Draco herself. "It makes it harder to see him as a bad guy when you learn more about his past. Even though he did make some poor choices."

Draco was silent for a moment, then he said carefully, "Do you think he  _really_ changed…for good…after Christmas was over and he went back to his regular life?"

It was a thought that had weighed on his mind since finishing the book. The book had said so, but he couldn't help but wonder. After all, did people really change?

"I like to think so." Hermione smiled kindly. "Realistically, I think maybe it would have been hard for him to get past some of his old habits, but once he experienced the joy of having friends in his life and giving to others, I think he would have been hooked. He wouldn't want to give that up." Draco had a feeling she knew he was asking more for himself than Scrooge's behalf.

"I'd like to think that too." He nodded and smiled at her.

"Draco?" Hermione began tentatively. "What happened…to your father? You said that Voldemort…killed him?"

For a few moments, Draco didn't say anything, he just stared down into his glass of champagne. He recalled how when she had first arrived, she had accused Draco of killing his father himself.

"It was the night the Snatchers brought the three of you to the Manor." He didn't want to tell the story, but he knew she was asking, not out of morbid curiosity, but as a friend—and he did want to be her friend—so he went on.

"After you escaped, Voldemort came. He was outraged that we had let Potter get away." Draco swallowed hard. "My father didn't tell the Dark Lord that I failed to identify Harry. He took the blame instead. Voldemort was so enraged he killed him right there, in front of me and my mother."

"Draco," Hermione breathed, horrified. "That's awful! I'm so sorry." She had no idea that their being there and escaping had such drastic consequences. The impact of what Draco had done by not betraying Harry also hit her.

"If you had revealed Harry, your father—" she began, but Draco cut her off.

"I don't regret what I did that night," he said firmly, "besides not helping you. He was my father, but he was wrong…about a lot of things." He chose the words carefully. "But he saved my life that night. I don't think I ever really knew that he loved me before then. We had a complicated relationship, to say the least, but at least now I know…" his voice trailed off.

"That he was a good father," Hermione finished for him, gently.

Draco nodded, grateful for her words. She very easily could have said many things against his father in that moment. Reminded Draco of all the horrible things he had done, but instead she had chosen to focus on what he had done right.

"I'm glad it wasn't you," she added, and Draco could tell she meant it.

Since they were talking of the past, Draco felt this was a good time to say something else he wanted to.

"I'm sorry, you know, about how I treated you at school." He looked her in the eyes as he said this, hoping she could see his sincerity. "The things I said about you were…inexcusable. If I could go back and do things differently, I would."

Hermione nodded slowly, as if digesting his words. Draco went on.

"I don't expect your forgiveness, but I wanted you to know."

There was a long pause, until finally she replied carefully.

"I'm glad I know."

He nodded, thinking her response was about as good as he could have hoped. And it was certainly better than her yelling at him or saying she would always hate him for how he had treated her. Maybe, in time, if he was given it, he could earn her forgiveness.

* * *

"I'm sorry, you know, about how I treated you at school." Hermione could see the sincerity in Draco's eyes as he spoke. "The things I said about you were…inexcusable. If I could go back and do things differently, I would."

Hermione nodded slowly, taken aback by his statement, not at all sure how to respond, as he went on.

"I don't expect your forgiveness, but I wanted you to know."

Did she forgive him? She wasn't sure. She wanted to, but she still felt like she needed to be guarded. Finally, she responded honestly.

"I'm glad I know."

He nodded, and Hermione thought she saw relief flash across his face.

They had both finished eating now, so Draco got up and cleared their plates, while Hermione sat quietly in thought.

Her mind was in overdrive, taking in everything Draco had just shared with her. His apology over his behavior at Hogwarts was shocking to say the least. She couldn't help but think about his earlier statement of how he felt like he could relate to Scrooge. Had Draco also been a victim of unfortunate circumstances that had made him the unpleasant bully she had known?

She stopped to think about what his home life was probably like as a boy. He was an only child and had no doubt come home to a cold, overbearing father, a distant mother, and a family associated with Death Eaters who spewed Voldemort's rhetoric. His youth probably hadn't been the most joyful time in his life.

Hermione had never before stopped to think what his childhood must have been like, and how it was the perfect breeding ground for the hate and ignorance she had seen in him at school.

"I'll get dessert and coffee," Draco said, breaking her train of thought.

"Let me," Hermione said, getting up, mainly to distract herself from the questions swirling in her mind.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Draco said, handing her the empty plates he had just retrieved from the cupboard. Then he left the room.

Now was her chance. The one she had been waiting for since he brought her there.

Hermione's hands shook a little as she reached for two coffee mugs and placed them on the counter. She poured the cups, hers only halfway, so she wouldn't get it confused with his.

Looking over her shoulder to make sure Draco hadn't returned, she carefully extracted the small container of sleeping powder from her pocket. She opened it and held it over Draco's cup, her heart beating fast.

She hesitated.

Their dinner together had been nice and the things Draco had said made her want to keep talking to him, to get to know him better. He had gone to so much trouble to give her a beautiful Christmas. Could she really betray him like this?

Then she remembered how he had acted towards her yesterday, so similar to how he had acted towards her his whole life.

Which was the real Draco Malfoy? Could she risk staying there to find out?

No, she couldn't. She couldn't take the chance that he wasn't sincere. She had to get out of there, for Harry's sake as much as hers.

_Don't be a fool!_ she scolded herself as her heart wrench painfully while she poured the powder in and then stirred it in until it disappeared. She tasted the coffee to see if there was a strange flavor but couldn't notice any.

She set the cup in his place, along with a slice of pumpkin pie, and then went back to get one for herself. As she did, she heard Draco re-enter the room.

"This looks delicious!" she said, trying to calm her shaky voice, hoping he didn't notice anything amiss. "The coffee will be excellent with it. It is decaf, right?" If it wasn't, she hoped it wouldn't interfere with the effects of the draughts.

She gave a nervous laugh, then berated herself for sounding like such an idiot. "I want to be able to sleep tonight."

"Yes, it's decaf," Draco replied, although he seemed distracted.

Hermione returned to the table, where Draco was already seated, and was taken aback when she saw a rectangular package wrapped in silver paper and a blue bow at her place.

"What's this?" She eyed it suspiciously.

"Just a Christmas gift," Draco explained, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not much, but I wanted you to have it." He took a sip of coffee.

Hermione sank down in her seat, staring at the gift.

"You-you really shouldn't have," she stuttered. "Besides, I don't have anything for you."

Draco rolled his eyes but smiled good-naturedly. "Really? I can't believe you didn't go out Christmas shopping for me. Have you no heart?" His tone turned serious again. "I obviously don't want anything in return. Just open it."

"Okay," she said slowly, unwrapping the package.

Inside was the first edition of  _A Christmas Carol._

"Draco," she breathed, "I can't accept this. This is really valuable."

"It's just a book." He shrugged. "Besides, I'd rather someone who appreciates it have it, than it just collect dust at the Manor."

She remembered what he had said about the enchantment on the library. "But I thought none of the books could leave the library?"

He took another sip of coffee. "They can't, but I went to the Manor today and got it. Do you like it? I put a protection spell on it, so you can read it without worrying about damaging it."

"I love it," she answered honestly, then tentatively picked it up since he had mentioned the protection spell.

She opened the cover and saw that there was an inscription written there, although it was magically floating just above the page, to not damage the rare book.

She read what it said, while Draco watched her carefully.

_To Hermione Granger,_

_The girl who believed even Scrooge could change._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Draco Malfoy_

"Oh, Draco," she said softly, "thank you." She realized he was thanking her for believing in him, for being his friend. She met his eyes and he was looking at her so intently it took her breath away.

Then she glanced down at his coffee cup and was instantly filled with guilt.

"Draco—" she started but was cut off when he said, "Listen, it's our song."

Sure enough, "I'll Be Home for Christmas," the song they had first danced to at the Ministry's Christmas party not even a week ago, was floating softly over the radio.

Draco drained his coffee cup, then put it down.

"Dance with me?" He strode over to her and held out his hand.

She hesitated, "Oh no, I couldn't—"

"Please?" His soft eyes were pleading as he smiled. "Consider it your Christmas gift to me."

He took his hand in hers and she stood up with him.

"I thought you said you didn't want anything," Hermione said, half joking.

"That was before I realized there was something I wanted." He gently placed his hand around her waist and pulled her close to him. Closer than they had danced at the party. With his other hand, he held hers.

They danced together in silence for a few moments, her heart beating fast from being so near him.

Draco spun her gently then brought her back into his arms.

"I have a confession to make," he said softly in her ear.

Hermione's heart beat even faster, but she said nothing as he continued.

"I had a wonderful time with you at the Christmas party. It was the best evening I had in a while, in fact. Being with you that night—talking, laughing—it felt so natural."

She recalled how when she was under the effects of Veritaserum he had asked her if she had enjoyed herself with him that night. She had thought he had asked that to mock her, but now she wondered if it was because he wanted to know if she had felt the same.

"I had a nice time, too," she answered quietly, relaxing slightly into his embrace as they danced.

"I enjoyed dancing with you," he went on as he spun her again. Then when she returned to his arms, he looked into her eyes. "And I also enjoyed kissing you."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she looked back at him. In his eyes, she saw the same expression she had seen the other night that she hadn't been able to place. But she could place it now.

What she saw there was desire.

"Draco," she began, breathlessly, not sure how to respond. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his, and the tenderness and longing she saw.

He moved even closer to her, so their mouths were inches apart and she was almost pressed up against him. She knew she should pull away, but she didn't. She stayed in his arms, transfixed.

He brought a gentle hand to her cheek and tilted her chin towards his. "Hermione," he said softly.

Then he kissed her, hesitantly, as if gauging how she would react. Her heart leapt to her throat and she found her lips responding to the gentle caress of his.

* * *

Draco's heart and senses soared as Hermione kissed him back. Her response was all he needed to deepen the kiss. He kissed her more passionately now, urgently, unsure how long the moment would last. With the hand he still had on the small of her back, he pulled her in towards him so she was pressed up against his chest.

He needed her to know how deeply he cared for her—how she had invaded his heart and mind and he didn't want her to leave them. How she had changed him somehow these past few days. How he had longed to hold and kiss her, and how he never wanted to stop.

And then his kiss changed again. It changed from firm and desperate, to deep and thoughtful. With this kiss he was telling her that she could trust him. That he would give his life to protect her. That, if she would let him, he would give himself to her, and try to do everything in his power to deserve her.

When he had told her all he could with his kiss, he pulled away, searching her eyes for a sign that she felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for her.

She looked astonished and was breathing hard, but she did not break away from his embrace and Draco knew this was his moment to tell her everything.

"Hermione, I need to tell you why I brought you here."

But no sooner had he said the words, then Draco felt the world around him start to shift. His head felt light and he was incredibly dizzy.

He swayed and brought a hand to his head, trying to steady himself.

"Something's…wrong."

* * *

Hermione had been waiting anxiously for Draco to continue what he had begun saying when she realized that the Dream-Blocking Draughts were taking effect. She grabbed his arms to steady him, silently cursing the fact that she had been so close to hearing the truth.

"Here," she said gently, "come sit on the couch."

Draco swayed dangerously as she helped him into the living room and he muttered under his breath, "Aren't you the one…who should be swooning right now?"

Hermione fought back the urge to laugh, and if her hands weren't so full, she would have swatted him for being so conceited. Trust him to find a way to be arrogant, even as he was about to pass out.

She helped lower him gently on the couch and then looked into his confused gray eyes.

"I don't…understand," was the last thing he slurred before his eyes rolled completely in the back of his head and he slumped forward.

He was out cold.

Hermione gently laid him back so he was lying down on the couch, and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wand.

She felt a lump rise in her throat as she stood up, staring down at him. He looked so peaceful, sleeping. Probably the most peaceful she had ever seen him.

There was a part of her that didn't want to leave. A part of her that wanted to wait for Draco to wake up, so he could finish his story and they could take on whatever happened next, together.

But she knew she couldn't. She still didn't have all the answers and she couldn't risk staying there to find them out. To do so would be unwise and could put Harry, herself, or even Draco in unnecessary danger. For all she knew, Harry and the whole Order of the Phoenix were on their way to save her. There were members who would hex Draco first and ask questions later over his kidnapping her.

She did, however, decide that once she found Harry, she would persuade him to come back with her to talk to Draco on their own terms. She knew Harry would take some convincing, but she thought it could be done.

She hurried upstairs to Draco's bedroom and tried to  _Accio_  her wand to her. She heard a dull thud coming from a safe in the corner and knew that's where it must be. After trying a few simple spells to get it to open, she realized the safe was protected so no one but Draco would be able to open it. She would have to take his wand.

She hurried back downstairs and wrapped herself up in her cloak, hat, and gloves. Instead of grabbing her scarf, she put on the green and gray one she had seen Draco wear. She would use that to track her way back to him. As she wrapped it around herself she noticed it smelled like him and she felt a stab of pain in her heart.

She walked over to the table and picked up the book Draco had given her. She stared at it for a moment then tucked it inside her cloak pocket.

She was ready to leave. But instead of heading for the door, she walked over to the couch where Draco lay and knelt beside him, placing a tender hand on his cheek.

"Happy Christmas, Draco Malfoy," she whispered sadly in his ear.

Then with a tear trickling down her face, she stood up and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, major cliffhanger there but don't hate me too much! I will try to update soon. Also, I know many of you were hoping that Hermione wouldn't use the draughts but I personally think her sensible side would win out, even though her feelings for Draco are rapidly growing. So...we'll just need to see what happens next. PLEASE drop me a comment if you can because I am very curious to know your thoughts on the developments (like their kiss, sigh)!


	18. Escape

Using Draco's wand, Hermione broke through the barrier spells and plunged into the dark forest.

_Lumos!_

A light appeared at the end of her wand to guide her way. Now that she had gotten past the barrier, she tried to Disapparate but wasn't able to.

The Apparition wards must extend farther than the exiting and entering barrier. She would have to get far enough away so she could Disapparate.

She turned back around and noticed that behind her was the illusion of the continuing forest. She could no longer see the house or the beautiful grounds.

Turning around, she broke into a run. As she crashed through the leaves and branches, which shook with snow falling from them, her breath and heart grew heavier.

Every few minutes, she would stop running to try to Disapparate again, with no luck.

After ten minutes, she slowed her run down to a walk, lungs burning. She had a feeling that Draco may have put a wandering charm on the area close to the grounds, so someone could keep walking in circles without even realizing it.

As she walked on through the dark forest, her mind went back to the evening she had just spent with Draco. It had been perfect. She never would have imagined that Draco Malfoy was capable of giving her the most amazing Christmas of her life. But he had done just that.

Even with the cold winter wind whipping around her, heat rose in her cheeks when Hermione remembered the kiss they had shared. No one had ever kissed her like that. It had been gentle, passionate, and deep all at once. It had stirred a longing in her she hadn't even known was there.

She had felt a myriad of Draco's emotions in that kiss. Some she understood and some she didn't. All she knew was the way he had held her, like she was the most precious thing in his world, made her want to explore the delicate feelings for him that had crept into her heart these past few days.

But was that wise?

Ever the pragmatist, she recalled how Draco had behaved towards her only yesterday, cold and uncaring. Were those his true feelings? A break in his façade? That side of him was certainly more fitting with the Draco Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts.

What if he were merely pretending to care for her so she would trust him? He was a Slytherin after all. Slytherins were known to be cunning and ruthless in getting what they wanted. Her heart lurched at the thought that she might merely be a pawn on Draco's chessboard. She realized now she wanted to be much more to him than that.

Hermione must have walked for almost an hour, battling with her thoughts and emotions, when she heard movement behind her.

A branch cracked close by and her heart skipped a beat. She stopped walking and turned to listen. Had Draco awoken and found her?

Suddenly, she was grabbed by two vicelike arms and her wand was wrenched out of her hand.

"Hello, beautiful." A low, menacing voice growled in her ear, filling her with dread. She knew that voice.

Fenrir Greyback.

Voldemort's werewolf henchman. The one who had been with the Snatchers the time she, Harry, and Ron had been caught in the woods and brought to Malfoy Manor.

"Well, well, look what we have here," his evil voice rasped in her ears. "We search these woods to find a missing Draco Malfoy and we wind up finding a Mudblood instead."

An eruption of evil laughter broke out around her, and Hermione knew Greyback wasn't alone. He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent, much like he had during the last encounter.

"You smell just as good as I remember," he panted in her ear, while his sharp, dirty nails dug into her shoulder.

"The Dark Lord will be so please with me for delivering Harry Potter's princess to him." He threw her roughly on the ground.

Hermione scrambled to get up but Greyback knelt on top of her, twisting her around so she was on her back, and pinned her down.

"But first, I think we'll have a little fun."

* * *

Draco felt his arm tingling uncomfortably, causing him to rouse from the deep, dreamless sleep he had been in.

He felt incredibly drowsy and confused.

_What happened?_

The tingling sensation continued, and Draco remembered what it meant. It was the failsafe for the barrier spells he had set up. Hermione had left the grounds.

The room spun as he forced himself into a sitting position. Disoriented, he threw himself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen, knocking over a dining room chair as he did.

He opened a cupboard and found a dose of Pepper-Up Potion. He drank it and the fog in his mind cleared a little. He drank another and then felt more like himself. He straightened up.

How much time had passed? How far had Hermione gone? And, most importantly, was she safe?

He felt in his pocket for his wand but, of course, it was gone. He raced upstairs to his bedroom and opened the safe with his voice. Her wand was still there, so he grabbed it.

He ran back downstairs and grabbed her scarf, which was still hanging on the door. Not even bothering to put on a cloak, he cast a tracking charm on the scarf, illuminated his wand, and raced into the darkness outside to find her.

_Please let her be okay._

He ran after the scarf in the forest for fifteen minutes before he heard a scream pierce through the trees.

It was her.

He ran past the scarf, towards the sound, and suddenly saw a faint light in the distance. He heard another scream and evil laughter.

He raced down a hill and the sight he saw made his blood run cold.

Hermione was on the ground, struggling and crying, and pinned on top of her was Fenrir Greyback. Her cloak lay a few feet away from her, and there were tears in her dress and cuts on her arms.

"Hold still!" Greyback rasped at her, as he struggled to keep her trapped underneath him.

Rage like he had never felt filled Draco, as he realized what Greyback was trying to do. Draco tore through the trees and shouted.

_Stupify!_

Greyback flew backwards in the air and landed against a tree with a loud thud.

Within seconds, Draco was by Hermione's side, pulling her into his arms, as she sobbed and struggled to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked desperately.

Hermione clung to him and then gasped between sobs, "Draco, watch out! There're more of them!"

No sooner had the words left her lips than Draco felt a shooting pain slash down his back. He screamed and wrenched around to curse the perpetrator. Another werewolf fell to the ground with a thud, but then another one bit into his arm.

Draco let more curses fly as Greyback's pack tore into him. Shooting pain ripped through him and he fell to the ground under the attack.

* * *

Hermione scrambled along the cold forest floor, searching frantically for Draco's wand that Greyback had taken from her. When she found it, she began hexing the werewolves as well. None attacked her, as they were all busy with Draco. Finally, she was able to immobilize the last one.

With the bodies of werewolves now strewn across the forest floor, Hermione raced to Draco's side and shrieked when she saw him.

"Draco! No!"

Blood was pouring out of his chest, back, and arms, pooling around him on the ground. His face had deep cuts as well, and his breathing was shallow and erratic.

"Draco!" she sobbed desperately, "I'm here! Just breathe."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he gasped for air, then passed out.

Hermione tore his tattered shirt from him and, as quickly as she could, cast a healing spell on all the deep gashes on his chest and back. The bleeding stopped, but she knew he had lost too much blood and needed a Blood-Replenishing Potion quickly.

Next, she hastily Obliviated the memories of all the unconscious werewolves, for hers and Draco's safety.

Then she cast a spell to help transport Draco and placed his arm over her shoulders, letting the magic carry his weight. On what was left of Draco's tattered scarf she had worn, she cast a tracking spell to find her way back to the house.

If she didn't get him back soon, she knew it could be disastrous.

_Please,_  she sent her plea out into the Christmas sky.  _Don't let him die._

* * *

Draco felt sharp pain piercing him all over his body and he couldn't move.

_Had he died?_

The pain became more severe, but suddenly he heard a soft distant voice comforting him and felt a gentle touch.

_Was that an angel?_

The pain lessened slightly as he listened to the angel's soothing voice, although he couldn't make out her words.

Suddenly, he tasted something bitter being poured into his mouth and he coughed.

"A little more," the angel prompted him. More vile concoction was forced down his throat. "Good, that's it."

He coughed again, and his stomach turned at the taste. Trust him to have an angel that would force him to drink disgusting potions instead of just letting him be.

He was about to express his distaste at her actions, when he opened his eyes and saw just who his angel was.

_Hermione._

So, he hadn't died.

He blinked, trying to focus on her, and struggled to speak.

"Shhhh." She placed a gentle finger to his lips, "You need to rest. Don't try to move yet."

Whatever she made him drink seemed to help, as the pain gradually began to lessen, and his mind felt a little less foggy.

Draco floated in and out of consciousness for a while, until her gentle voice spoke to him again.

"Here. Drink this. It's the antidote for the werewolf bites. It will stop you from changing into one, but you'll need to drink it every day for a week."

Draco forced himself to open his eyes and struggled to sit up and drink the potion she handed him. That seemed important enough to force himself out of the exhausted stupor he was in.

Hermione placed the cup on a side table and lent a gentle hand to help him sit up against the pillows of the couch.

Draco twisted his face when he tasted the concoction. "This is worse than the last one," he complained.

After a few moments, his mind cleared, and the events of the evening came rushing back to him.

"Hermione," he grabbed her arm desperately, "what did he do to you? Did he—"

"No," she shook her head vehemently, "no, you stopped him before he had the chance."

Draco let out a relieved breath and squeezed her hand tightly. "Thank Merlin."

He examined the arm of the hand he held and saw deep scratches there, along with some bruises. He looked up and saw similar marks on Hermione's other arm and face. He could also make out a deep gash on her right shoulder where part of her dress was torn.

"You're hurt!" he exclaimed.

Hermione shook her head. "They're just scratches. Yours are far worse. I was able to stop the bleeding, but I need to heal your wounds."

Surprised, Draco looked down at his chest and saw deep, fresh slashes across his skin. He winced at the sight. It looked bad. Whatever Hermione had given him earlier had taken away the pain, and he hadn't even noticed his injuries until now.

She directed him to sit back and, with her wand, began healing his wounds, changing them from large gashes into thin pink lines.

Hermione furrowed her brow as she worked, concentrating hard. Draco couldn't help but stare at her intense expression. He felt his blood slowly start to boil again as he examined the evidence of abuse across her face. There was a large purple bruise swelling up above her left eyebrow. Her right cheek had a large cut traveling down the side, and her bottom lip was broken and swollen as well.

As if sensing the murderous thoughts growing inside him, Hermione spoke softly.

"Thank you, by the way. If you hadn't come when you did…" She shuddered slightly.

Draco's voice was hard. "I should have killed him," he said with his jaw clenched. He had wanted to when he saw Greyback on top of her. The only reason he hadn't used a killing curse was because he hadn't wanted to hit her by mistake.

Hermione put a gentle hand on his arm.

"But you didn't," she said kindly.

"I wish I had. He deserved it."

"I know. But you're better than that."

Her words struck Draco's heart. Did she really think so?

Hermione glanced at him with curious eyes. "Greyback said…that they were looking for you. Why?"

Draco hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he prepared to tell his story to her. The same story he had been about to share with her earlier that evening.

"I left Voldemort and the Death Eaters…a few months ago. I've been in hiding ever since. I realized that Potter was the only person who might be able to help me, but I had no way to contact him." He sighed. "That's why I brought you here."

Draco gazed back at her, assessing her reaction to his words. As she took in their meaning, she didn't seem overly surprised, but he could see emotion building in her eyes and what even looked like hope.

"I'm really happy to hear that," she said, sounding truly relieved. Then she stopped healing his wounds to look at him. "You should have told me."

"Would you have believed me?" he asked doubtfully.

Hermione thought for a moment, then answered, "No…no, I wouldn't have. At least not at first."

He nodded. "I don't blame you. Besides, I didn't want to bring you in any further than you needed to be. Being around me is dangerous enough." He swallowed hard. "After I began to…care about you, I tried to put distance between us. To keep you safe. If Voldemort found me…it wouldn't be good for you."

She took one of Draco's hands in hers. "I appreciate that. I really do. But I'm in danger anyway by being friends with Harry." She swallowed bravely. "And I'd rather be in danger…with you…than without."

Draco looked down at the ground, not meeting her eyes, processing what she just said. But before he had a chance to respond, he felt her gentle lips touch his. Her action caused him to draw in a shocked breath, but before he was able to return her kiss, an outraged voice sounded behind them.

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped and swirled around.

"Harry!" she exclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Harry...way to ruin the moment. Please tell me what you think about the latest developments! Your comments make me oh-so-happy and they keep me updating often!


	19. Confessions

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione leaped from the couch and ran towards a stunned Harry Potter, wrapping him in an emotional hug. "I'm so glad you're here!"

At that moment, Ron Weasley entered the room as well with his wand drawn.

"Ronald!" She let go of Harry to attack Ron with a hug now.

Draco had no wand or energy, so he sat quietly on the couch, watching the scene unfold. Mentally, he cursed Potter for his timing. Trust him to interrupt the moment Hermione had initiated a hesitant kiss.

Before Draco could properly analyze the meaning of her actions, Harry shot a curse Draco's way, immobilizing him.

_Petrificus Totalus!_

Hate radiating from his eyes, Harry walked menacingly towards Draco, speaking in a dangerous voice. "Hermione, what did he do to you?"

Hermione released Ron from her embrace to respond to Harry, and Ron surveyed her now, exclaiming, "Blimey! Hermione, you're bleeding!" Ron raised his wand in Draco's direction and strode towards him. "You evil, slimy little ferret! You're going to pay for what—"

"Ron, Harry, no!" Hermione rushed over and stood between Harry and Ron as they advanced on Draco. "He didn't do this to me! It was Fenrir Greyback. Draco stopped him, okay? I promise. He didn't hurt me."

Ron eyed her dubiously and Harry moved closer to her. Hermione raised her own wand and removed the spell Harry had stunned Draco with, continuing to try to calm her two friends.

"Look, I know it seems bad, but just let me and Draco explain everything."

"Draco?" Ron asked irately. "Since when is he  _Draco_  to you?"

Able to speak again, Draco ignored Ron but gave Harry a withering look. "I asked you to come alone, Potter."

Ron fumed. "If you think you can threaten Hermione and not expect me to help her, you're mad!"

Draco shot Ron a deathly glare then turned back to Harry. "Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Yes," Harry replied through clenched teeth, obviously seconds away from cursing Malfoy into oblivion.

"And you brewed it yourself?"

"I did."

"Good." Draco nodded. "Let's see it."

Harry pulled a small vial full of clear liquid out of his pocket, holding it tightly in his hand.

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

"Veritaserum," Harry replied. "One of Malfoy's stipulations for your release," he explained bitingly. "Obviously, he was planning on interrogating me with it in return for your safety."

Hermione turned towards Draco with a puzzled look, so Draco quickly explained. "It's not for him, it's for me. I was never planning on using it on Potter. I knew the only way he would believe anything I say is if he brewed the potion himself." He inclined his head towards the flask expectantly.

Hermione nodded then grabbed the vial from Harry, who shouted in protest. She handed it to Draco, who uncorked it and immediately swallowed the contents.

"Have a seat, Potter. I have a proposition for you." He gestured to the armchair facing the couch.

Harry obliged, but kept his wand ready. Hermione sank down onto the opposite end of the couch, while Ron remained standing, brandishing his wand at Draco.

"I want to help you bring down Voldemort," Draco said.

A stunned silence filled the room, so Draco went on. "I've left the Death Eaters. I think I have information that could be valuable to you, but I want you to ensure my safety in return."

Ron snorted. "As if we'd believe that! What do you take us for?"

"I don't expect you to believe me, Weasel." Draco regarded him coolly. "That's why I had Potter make the Veritaserum. So you would know I'm telling the truth. Go ahead. Ask me anything." He leaned back against the couch with a sneer on his face and placed his hands behind his head, as if he had all the time in the world.

Ron glared at him, then regarded the wounds that were still apparent on Draco's arms and chest and murmured, "Hermione, please tell me you did that to him."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, outraged.

Then Harry spoke, his voice doubtful. "You left the Death Eaters? When?"

"Yes. A few months ago," Draco said.

"Where have you been since then?"

"Hiding out. In the woods at first, then here. It's not too clever to be seen when you're a wanted man on both sides."

Harry crossed his arms. "Why? Why would you risk betraying Voldemort?"

Draco chose his words carefully.

"I had doubts for a while about Voldemort's teachings…and methods. Ever since…Dumbledore." Draco knew that bringing up Dumbledore likely wouldn't help his case but, since it was the truth, he couldn't not say it due to the Veritaserum. "When Voldemort killed my father, it made me realized how senseless it all was. That's when I started looking for a way out. I had to bide my time though, to avoid suspicion."

"Voldemort killed your father?" This seemed to surprise Harry. No doubt he had also heard the rumor that Draco was the one to kill him.

"Yes. The night the three of you were at the Manor. When Voldemort arrived, my father took the blame for you escaping. Between that and my father failing to obtain the prophecy at the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort didn't seem to think he was useful anymore. So…he disposed of him."

Harry rubbed his eyes, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. However, Draco could sense Harry was begrudgingly accepting Draco's sincerity, due to the truth serum.

"What does Hermione have to do with any of this? Why did you abduct her?" Harry asked angrily, apparently not ready to let Draco off the hook just yet.

"Honestly? I needed a way to get you to talk to me." Draco rubbed his tired eyes. "I had no idea where you were or how to contact you, but I assumed Hermione would know. Plus, even if I managed to get a message to you on my own, I knew you wouldn't come—you'd just think it was a trap. I needed something to motivate you." Draco glanced towards Hermione then back to Harry. "Hermione was the easiest of your friends to get to because she works at the Ministry. I never planned on hurting her."

" _Did_  you hurt her?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes but Hermione answered before Draco had a chance.

"No, Harry, I promise he didn't hurt me. He intimidated me, at first, but that's all."

Harry looked at Hermione then again at Draco, as if he wanted him to confirm what she said, most likely worried she was under some kind of spell.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing besides what you saw in my message." Draco turned to Hermione again, looking contrite. "Although, I realize I was a bit excessive with my scare tactics."

"Well," she said, grimacing, "I think I more than got you back for that by basically shattering your skull."

"Let's hear more about that!" Ron piped up.

"So what do you want from me?" Harry asked suspiciously, ignoring Ron.

"For starters, protection from your side. I need somewhere safe to stay." Draco gestured around the room. "Clearly, it's not safe here anymore since Greyback was so close. I also need you to vow to advocate for me to not be sent to Azkaban…if we are successful and Voldemort is defeated. In exchange, I will help you in your search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. I think I know where one of them is."

Of course, Draco knew that Harry could simply continue to question him and get all the information that he knew about the Horcruxes that way, then leave him to his fate. But Draco hoped Harry, being who he was, would have more compassion than that.

Ron's voice broke through, mocking him. "Scared to pay for your crimes in Azkaban, hey, Malfoy? How many people have you killed in service to Voldemort?"

Draco turned towards Ron, required to answer due to the Veritaserum.

"I've never killed anyone," he said truthfully and heard Hermione let out a relieved breath.

Ron just snorted in disbelief. "Really? How many people have you tortured, then?"

Again, the truth serum forced him to answer and Draco looked at the ground.

"Two." Once again it was the truth, although he hated admitting it, especially in front of Hermione.

He raised his head but couldn't bring himself to look at her, so he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. "I detested every minute of it."

Ron scoffed then demanded, "Who were they?"

"One was Thorfinn Rowle, a Death Eater. Voldemort made me torture him as punishment after you three escaped him and Dolohov in London." Draco swallowed painfully. "The other…was Professor Burbage."

As he said the words, Draco's mind flashed back to the evening when Voldemort had suspended the professor above the group of Death Eaters and demanded everyone present take a turn using the Cruciatus curse on her. When his turn arrived, Draco had complied out of fear of what would happen to him if he refused.

Hermione gasped, no doubt remembering the kindly Muggles Studies professor whose class she had taken during her third year.

Ron, clearly not finished with his interrogation of all of Draco's evil deeds, continued, "What about Hermione? Did you torture her too? Make your Aunt Bellatrix proud?"

"No!" Draco turned towards him, outraged.

Hermione simultaneously cried in shock, "Ron! Stop it! I just said he didn't hurt me!"

But Ron would not be deterred, glaring at Draco. "What, did you Imperio her, so she'd defend you?" He turned angrily to Hermione. "Why are you trying to protect him? You know exactly what he is!"

"I did not," Draco hissed through clenched teeth, growing increasingly agitated by the minute. Looking at Hermione, he added quietly, "I wouldn't hurt her." Draco felt his anger lessen as he gazed at her.

Harry, who had remained silent during this exchange, spoke suddenly. "Ron…Hermione, I want to talk to Malfoy in private."

Ron stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind. "We're not leaving you alone with him, mate."

"I'll be fine," Harry responded. "He doesn't even have a wand."

Which was true, Draco mused. He would have hexed Weasley with it ages ago if he had. He assumed Hermione still had it.

Hermione nodded towards Harry, no doubt relieved to get Ron and Draco away from each other, and pulled Ron's arm, leading him down the hall towards the library. Draco was satisfied to hear Hermione giving Weasley a sharp tongue-lashing as they went, although he couldn't make out her words.

"Do you love her?" Harry's serious voice interrupted his thoughts.

Draco turned towards him, confused. "What?" he asked harshly, having no idea what Harry was talking about.

"Hermione," Harry said calmly. "Do you love her?"

"Are you insane, Potter?" Why on earth would you ask that?"

Harry didn't respond but instead asked again, somewhat impatiently.

"Yes or no? Do you love her?"

Draco felt the Veritaserum working and, although he fought it, he heard himself answer quietly.

"Yes."

Draco's head spun at his own answer. How had that happened? Of course, he knew he cared deeply for her, but did he really love her? He didn't even think he was capable of such a thing. He recalled the irony of how he had asked Hermione about her parents and how they had fallen in love. All along, he had been falling in love with her, without even realizing it.

Draco sat in stunned silence, while Harry nodded his head slowly, looking somewhat disturbed as he took the information in. "Does she know?" he asked.

Draco's troubled eyes met Harry's and he ran a hand through his hair. "No, of course not!" he said abruptly. "I didn't even know, I'm sure she doesn't." At least he hoped not.

"You should tell her."

"Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over wonderfully." Draco continued in a mocking tone. "Hermione, if you're not too angry with me for terrorizing you in school, threatening your friends, and kidnapping you, what do you say we set a wedding date? Spring sound good?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he said in a wry, disbelieving voice, "You want to marry her…"

It was more of a statement than a question, so Draco wasn't forced to answer, instead he just shot daggers at Harry with his eyes.

"I'm not telling her and you better not either," Draco said as menacingly as he could.

Harry held his hands up in defense. "Hey, it's not my place, but I still think you should." A pause and then, "Do you think she feels the same?"

Draco thought for a moment. It certainly seemed like Hermione had softened towards him, but what did that mean? He recalled how she had kissed him earlier, right before Potter had shown up. Draco didn't think that was something she would do lightly (and most likely Harry didn't either, which was why he was asking these questions) but that certainly didn't mean she was in love with him.

He reflected on their long, troubled history, his own unpleasant past, their new fragile relationship, and the conflict they would be met with if they even explored the possibility of a real romantic relationship.

"No," he shook his head, "I'm sure she doesn't. And even if she did, it could never work." They were friends, at best. They would never be anything more.

Draco rubbed his face with his hands. Before, when it was just the two of them, he had wanted Hermione to know how special she was to him. He had wanted her to trust him and care for him in return, but now, it was like ice-cold water had been thrown upon that wish. Whether it was the realization of the depth of his feelings for her that he knew she couldn't possibly return, or the appearance of her friends and their hatred towards him, Draco knew it had all been a fool's fantasy. He wasn't meant for her.

Harry looked thoughtful but said nothing. He stood in silence for several moments, no doubt processing Draco's startling confession. Then he strode over to where Draco was sitting and held out his hand.

"I accept your proposition, Draco Malfoy."

Surprised, Draco accepted Harry's handshake. His plan had worked. Now all he had to do was deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of Harry's reaction?


	20. 12 Grimmauld Place

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. Shortly after Draco had returned Harry's handshake, Hermione had taken down the Apparation wards and they had left Draco's house, arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place, which Draco soon learned was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry's acceptance of Draco's request had come with some stipulations. First, that Draco would not be allowed to have a wand and, second, that he would remain under tight surveillance at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Draco had agreed to both, having expected them from the start.

Draco was surprised to find that he was allowed a considerable amount of freedom within the house. He had assumed he would have been locked in a room for the duration of his stay, having contact only with Harry. Some days he thought he would have preferred that. But instead, he found himself partaking in regular group meals and had access to almost every room. He figured Hermione had intervened on his part, so he wasn't treated like a complete criminal.

Before they had arrived, Hermione had shown Harry the expansive library that Draco had enchanted to be part of his house, and Harry agreed that it should come with them, to help them in their research.

So, Draco had walked Hermione through the steps of the spell and the library of Malfoy Manor was now a welcome addition to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The house was a bustle of activity and Draco soon became accustomed to many new faces filtering in and out, at all hours of the day and night. Draco was mostly met with cold suspicion that warmed to begrudging acceptance when Hermione or Harry pleaded his case. In all, there were only a few who treated him differently.

Mrs. Weasley, who spent much of her time cooking for the group, had shaken her head sympathetically when she had seen Draco and told him he needed a good meal.

Ron continued to either ignore or insult him, causing Draco to respond likewise, although he found himself curbing his insults for Hermione's sake.

Ginny Weasley didn't say much to him, but he caught her watching him many times. At one point, when he was looking at Hermione, he caught Ginny's gaze and saw a questioning look in her eyes. From then on, Draco tried extra hard to make sure his feelings for Hermione didn't show in his face.

Lupin, who was married to Draco's cousin Tonks, had treated him the most amicably. Perhaps, being a werewolf, he felt some compassion for Draco and the particular type of monster he was viewed as being.

Harry and Draco got on surprisingly well, and Draco found he was rarely annoyed by him at all. They spent most of their time discussing plans on how Harry could find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes.

Although Draco had been received better than expected by most members of the Order, he could feel the tension rise every time he entered a room. This caused him to retreat to the library whenever he had a chance, mainly for a sense of familiarity.

So now he sat at his desk, thankful that the library had come along with him to this new, unstable territory, with books spread out in front of him. He figured it wouldn't hurt to solidify his somewhat rocky situation by finding any additional helpful information that he could.

The door to the library opened slowly and Hermione walked in.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said with a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

Assuming she was referring to the injuries he had sustained from Greyback's posse and not his mental state, he shrugged. "Not bad, considering…just a bit sore. You?"

Hermione had reached the desk now and rested her hands on the chair across from him. She nodded. "I'm not noticing any pain at all. My cuts weren't anywhere near as deep as yours."

Molly Weasley had healed Hermione's injuries shortly after they arrived at the house. Draco was relieved to see that there were no traces of the abuse she had sustained at the hands of Greyback, although he suspected there were mental wounds that would take longer to heal.

She was silent for a moment, running her fingers absentmindedly over the back of the chair, then nodded her head towards the array of books Draco had spread out over the table.

"What have you been working on this whole time?" she asked.

"Anything I can find related to Horcruxes."

She gave a small smile. "I was too."

Draco gave a short laugh at the irony. "I guess we should have combined forces a bit earlier, huh?"

"I guess so." She pulled the chair out and slid into it, then pulled a book towards her. "What have you found so far?"

Draco launched into a summary of what he had discovered over the past few months, most of which didn't seem to be new information to her. She filled in some gaps in his knowledge about the subject, and he managed to surprise her with a few new pieces of information as well. At least his tedious time researching hadn't been a complete waste.

As they talked and researched over the next hour, stopping often to ask the other a question or voice a theory, Draco couldn't help but wish he had taken her into his confidence from the very start, and that they could have spent their time together like they were now. As friends and accomplices, rather than enemies—or, more specifically, guard and prisoner—as they had been.

The thought brought a question to his mind. One that he had been wondering since he had awoken from his drugged state on Christmas evening.

"Hermione?" Draco began carefully, unsure of the best way to broach the subject. She looked up at him expectantly, no doubt assuming he was about to ask another research-related question, as he continued. "How did you get away…on Christmas?"

Hermione placed her quill down carefully. "The Dream-Blocking Draughts you gave me."

"But those just block dreams." He drew his eyebrows together, puzzled.

She shook her head and summoned a book from the stacks of the library. After consulting the index, she held it out to Draco and pointed to the passage, explaining.

"Three Dream-Blocking Draughts were all I needed to knock you unconscious for an hour. I never took any that you gave me. I crushed them and put them into your coffee after dinner on Christmas."

Draco took in her words while skimming the page.

"I guess I'm lucky you didn't hold out for four," he said wryly.

She gave a short laugh. "I was tempted to, at first." Then her expression turned serious and she sighed. "I almost didn't go through with it, you know. And I felt awful after you made such an effort with Christmas."

Draco shook his head. "No, you did the right thing. I didn't have any right to keep you there. And I should have been honest with you. I just didn't think you'd believe me."

Hermione took the book back and closed it. "I did plan on coming back. With Harry…to talk to you."

Draco nodded again but didn't say anything. He appreciated her last comment and knew it was more than he deserved, but he also felt very foolish. He had spent his entire Christmas planning on how to build their relationship—to show her she meant something to him and to get her to trust him.

She had clearly spent the same day waiting for an opportunity to get away from him. He couldn't help but wonder if her apparent appreciation for the effort he had made, and their conversation at dinner, had merely been a ploy to get him to think she trusted him.

He recalled, particularly, the kiss they had shared after dinner. The one that had given him reason to hope. She had responded to it, fervently, it seemed at the time.

But now, Draco wondered if that had just been her way of biding time. Had she kissed him back only to avoid upsetting him, knowing she was moments away from freedom? It pained him to think about and he didn't dare ask her. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the truth.

He returned his eyes to the book in front of him, although his mind was elsewhere. He vaguely noticed Hermione shift uncomfortably in her seat, but she didn't say anything.

Another few minutes ticked by in silence. In his mind, Draco strengthened his resolve that he had expressed to Harry a few days ago. He would not be telling Hermione how he felt about her. It was one thing to hope that she might feel the same for him, when they had been alone at his house, with no other variables. But it was different here, in the real world, where people (people she cared about, he reminded himself) cringed when he walked into a room. Draco just didn't see how they could ever have a future together.

His past actions had solidified that. And even if she did feel something for him, the resistance they would be met with from those who loved her would be insurmountable.

Draco had always been selfish. In the past, he didn't care who he destroyed to get what he wanted. But now, what he wanted didn't matter. He wasn't the same man he had been before she had reentered his life. He loved her, truly and completely. And because of that, he had to let her go.

* * *

As the days wore on and Draco became more widely accepted by the Order, he sat down to share everything he knew or suspected about Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes. Some of the information was already known to Harry, but Draco has happy that he was able to share new information as well.

Shortly before receiving Draco's message and coming to his house to rescue Hermione, Harry and Ron had been successful in their search for Slytherin's locket and had destroyed it. That left Hufflepuff's cup and another unknown Horcrux.

"Voldemort's snake, Nagini," Draco explained, "I'm certain she's the final one. Voldemort never lets her out of his sight and her behavior is…different than a regular snake. It's almost as if she has human-like qualities."

Hermione nodded. "That would make sense that he would want one to be a living thing, capable of defending itself."

"But that will make it that much more difficult for us to destroy her," Harry put in. "All the Horcurxes need to be destroyed before I can even have a hope of fighting Voldemort and winning. How would I get close enough to Nagini without Voldemort killing me first?"

The group pondered the question for a while, playing out various scenarios, most involving Harry's invisibility cloak.

Draco shook his head. "Voldemort would sense your presence even if he couldn't see you. The connection you two have…he's very aware of it."

"I'll do it then!" Ron exclaimed, passionately.

Draco shook his head again. "Even if Voldemort can't see you, Nagini will be able to sense you. She'd see you as a threat and kill you before you had a chance." He paused a moment. "I should do it."

His suggestion was immediately met with loud protest, no doubt on account of everyone's distrust of him. He did feel a small pang in his heart when Hermione responded, "Absolutely not! It's much too dangerous for you."

"Think about it," Draco went on. "Nagini wouldn't kill me on sight or be suspicious of me. She knows me as one of the Dark Lord's inner circle. I could bide enough time by telling Voldemort that I had been captured by the Order these past few months. It could be done."

"He'll be able to read your mind and see you're lying," Hermione pointed out. "He'd kill you for your betrayal."

"I'm skilled at Occulmency. I could keep him from reading my mind long enough to get close to Nagini," Draco insisted. "Then once I've killed her, Potter could fight him."

A silence filled the room as everyone considered the plan. Draco knew it was a good one, but he also knew it would mean placing Harry's safety in his hands, which made it unlikely they would go for it.

After several minutes of discussion, his plan was dismissed. Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He knew it was the best chance they had.

As the group continued to discuss their options, his eyes met Hermione's and he sensed he saw relief there that no one had gone along with his suggestion. Draco held her eyes for a moment, struggling to see all that was beneath that look. She flushed slightly then looked away.

* * *

"What's going on with you and Malfoy?" Ginny crossed her arms at Hermione.

Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks, but she ignored it. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Come on." Ginny sat down on her bed and looked her square in the face. "You can't play dumb with me. I see the way he looks at you. He's all sullen and cold to everyone else, and then you walk in the room and it's like sunshine in May." She rolled her eyes. "It's not subtle."

"It's nothing," Hermione insisted. "He trusts me, that's all. We're friends."

"Uh-huh." Ginny eyed her dubiously. "He trusts Harry too and I don't see him looking at him as if he were his heart's desire."

"Please," Hermione scoffed. "There's nothing going on between us."

Ginny would not be persuaded. "And you're almost just as bad. I saw the look on your face when he suggested killing Voldemort's snake himself. You freaked out." She inclined her head. "What exactly happened between you two when you were at that house?"

Hermione sighed. "Nothing…it's just…well, he kissed me, but I'm sure it didn't mean anything."

"What?!" Ginny exploded. "How could you not tell me that before? Okay, tell me  _everything!"_  She leaned towards Hermione eagerly.

"It just…happened." Hermione felt relieved to finally be able to talk to her friend about all the conflicting emotions she was feeling. "I mean, he was downright awful at first, just how you'd expect, but then, things changed. He opened up to me and I saw this part of him that I had no idea existed."

Hermione played with the ends of her hair as she continued, "We just…connected, and even though I didn't want to, I found myself liking him. I enjoy talking to him and just…being with him."

"And kissing him," Ginny teased. "Look, I think it's crazy…but I also…don't."

Hermione raised her confused eyes to her friend as Ginny went on. "I mean, I know he's always been a complete prat, but Harry really seems to think he's changed. They've barely fought at all since Malfoy's been here, and I think Harry's starting to respect him." Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "And Malfoy's clearly over the moon for you, so at least he's got taste. You should talk to him. Find out what's really going on. I mean, do you want to be with him?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I certainly enjoy spending time with him and I'm glad we're friends, but to make it anything more…I just don't know how it could be. Even if Harry were to be fine with it, Ron would never be. There'd be so many obstacles."

Ginny snorted. "Please don't let Ron be the reason you don't go after something you want. Ron's an idiot. If he's your friend, he should be happy about whoever makes you happy, as long as he treats you well."

Hermione bit her lip, taking in her friend's words. Was she right? Or was Hermione reading into something that wasn't even there? She sighed, feeling completely lost.

* * *

Draco was seated at the desk in the library, alone. Every few minutes, he would look up at Hermione's spot on the couch and frown at its vacancy. Even though he was happy that the trio was making progress against Voldemort, he was frustrated he couldn't be with them to help. He felt so useless.

Recently, it had been discovered that the cup of Hufflepuff was likely in Bellatrix LeStrange's vault at Gringotts, and now the Golden Trio were under the effects of Polyjuice Potion to break in and steal it. Every minute since they had left, Draco had been gripped with worry for Hermione's safety.

Since coming to Grimmauld Place, Draco had been much more closed off from her. He worried that others would guess of his feelings for her, like Harry had, and he didn't want to put her in that spot.

Draco felt that he had a new appreciation for what Hermione's father had gone through all those years ago, being in love with her mother at school but not being able to say anything. How had he survived it? Draco felt it was pure torture to be so close to Hermione, knowing he couldn't tell her how he really felt.

Suddenly, Harry and Hermione burst in the room, looking disheveled but alert.

"It's happening. Voldemort is preparing to attack Hogwarts. We have to move," Harry said.

Draco leaped from his seat and hurried over to them, relieved to see them both safe.

"Now? What about the cup?"

"We've got it." Hermione raised a small satchel in her hand. "But we weren't able to destroy it with the sword of Gryffindor. They're made of the same metal, so neither has any effect on the other. We need a Basalisk fang from the Chamber of Secrets to do it."

Draco absorbed this information and turned to Harry. "So…Hogwarts. Voldemort's there?"

Harry nodded. "We just got word from McGonagall." He handed Draco his confiscated wand. "We need every man we can get, if you're up for it."

Draco took the wand from him, surprised at Harry's trust, but nodded. "I'm ready."

Harry smiled. "Good. We're leaving in ten minutes. Get anything you need and meet us in the kitchen." Then he turned and left.

Draco began to walk towards the door but turned when he noticed Hermione wasn't following him. She stood frozen, so he went to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

"Draco," she looked at him with fearful eyes and said quietly, "I'm scared."

He nodded and put his hands on her elbows. "I know. I'm terrified too. But this is what you've all been working towards…It's time."

She nodded and swallowed hard. "Promise me, you'll be safe, okay?"

"I will. You do the same. I expect to be sitting at that table with you tomorrow." He pointed towards the desk. "And listening to you, obnoxiously, tell me everything I could have done better in combat."

She fought back tears and laughed a little, then looked up at him with fearful eyes. "I promise," she whispered.

"Good." He gave her a sad smile and he tilted her chin up towards him. Then he wiped the lone tear that had fallen from her eye with his thumb.

He took her hand in his and they walked to the kitchen, together, ready for battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is getting close to the end now (sadly). Keep the comments coming for quick updates and a happy author!


	21. The Final Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone has forgotten, I don't own Harry Potter. Rights belong to J.K. Rowling. This is just me having fun with her characters :)

When the group arrived at Hogwarts, everyone from the Order spread out, making themselves useful for the imminent war. Harry turned to his three friends.

"Hermione, you and Ron go to the Chamber of Secrets and destroy the cup. Malfoy and I will work on finding and killing Nagini."

"You got it, mate." Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and made his way to go.

"Wait!" Hermione cried, "How are you two going to kill Nagini?"

"We'll do Draco's plan." Harry said.

Draco looked at him, surprised, but nodded. "It will work. It has to."

Hermione turned pale.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's the best we've got. We'll be careful, I promise." Harry said.

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, impatiently. "We have to go!"

Hermione's eyes darted between Harry and Draco and she whispered, "Please…be careful."

"We will….and you be careful too." Draco said, as he watched her and Ron depart, until they turned a corner and were out of sight. It hit him that may have been the last time he would see her alive. Pain struck his heart as he turned to Harry.

"Let's go."

* * *

"…I think I have the answer." The voice belonged to Voldemort. Harry and Draco were huddled outside the Shrieking Shack, under Harry's invisibility cloak, far enough away to avoid being detected by Voldemort or Nagini. They both held their breaths, listening and watching as the scene inside unfolded.

"My Lord—" Severus Snape began, but Voldemort cut him off.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

His words caused Draco's blood to run cold. He had been commanded to kill Dumbledore. If he had succeeded, he could have been the one in Snape's position now.

"My Lord!" Snape exclaimed in objection, raising his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand in the air, summoning Nagini.

_"Kill."_  Voldemort commanded in Parsletongue.

Snape's screams tore through the air, while Harry and Draco remained frozen.

"I regret it," Voldemort said, not at all sounding remorseful, and left the room with Nagini.

Draco and Harry remained still for several moments, in shock over what they had just witnessed. When he was sure that Voldemort had truly departed from the Shrieking Shack, Draco inclined his head in the direction Voldemort had taken and whispered to Harry.

"Come on."

"No," Harry replied and made his way towards Snape.

Reluctantly, Draco followed and was surprised to see that Snape was still alive, panting for his last breath. Draco raised his wand in a feeble attempt to heal the dying man, although he knew it was hopeless.

At the same time, Snape raised his own wand to his head, extracting silver wisps of memories. Snape gasped to Harry, "Take…it…Take…it."

Draco quickly conjured a flask for Harry to place the memories in.

Snape grasped Harry's robes and then his eyes went blank.

Draco looked at Snape's lifeless body in shock, feeling a horrifying sense of déjà vu of when he had stood gazing down at his father's dead body. Another life taken by Voldemort's hand.

Suddenly, Voldemort's voice rang through the air, causing Harry and Draco to both jump.

_"Harry Potter…you have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me…I shall find you and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. You have one hour."_

"We need to find a Pensieve," Harry said.

* * *

As Harry returned from his visit into Snape's memories, Draco turned to face him. He hadn't joined Harry in the memories so he could guard the door.

"It's me…" Harry said, breathlessly, "I'm…a Horcrux."

His words sunk in and Draco spoke, shocked, "Of course, your connection to Voldemort…speaking Parsletongue…it makes sense." Then the impact of what Harry said sunk in. "Wait, does that mean..." his voice trailed off.

"Yes…I need to die for Voldemort to be defeated."

Draco was speechless.

"We continue with the plan," Harry said. "You kill Nagini. I…face Voldemort. Then you finish him."

Draco's stricken eyes turned fearful. "I can't! The prophesy said…it had to be you."

"It's our only chance to rid the world of him. We have to try."

Draco closed his eyes then said quietly, "You're right."

They turned and began walking toward the Forbidden Forest together. For a while both were silent, then Draco attempted to speak, thinking he should say something to his former enemy now walking towards his imminent death.

"Potter, I'm sorry—" he began, but Harry cut him off.

"Dumbledore knew Voldemort had ordered you to kill him, to set you up for failure and then punish you and your family. Dumbledore asked Snape to do it in your place...I saw it in his memory. Dumbledore was dying. He didn't want you to have that on your soul. He knew there was hope for you."

Draco let Harry's words sink in for a moment. "Thank you…for telling me that." It helped ease his conscience slightly over the role he had played in Dumbledore's death.

Harry nodded. "Tell Ron and Hermione that I'm sorry…but I have to do this."

"I will," Draco said, although he knew his own chances of surviving were slim. There was a part of him that would prefer not surviving as well, if it meant being the one to tell Hermione that Harry was dead.

They reached the edge of the forest. Harry pulled out the sword of Gryffindor and his invisibility cloak. "Let's go over the plan one more time," he said.

* * *

Draco walked steadily towards the spot Voldemort had commanded Harry to meet him. Harry kept back a safe distance, under his invisibility cloak.

Up ahead, Draco saw a figure he knew too well. Voldemort turned towards him, anger evident on his face. Behind him stood packs of Death Eaters, most of who regarded Draco with contempt.

"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort drawled, "I must say…I'm surprised to see you here. I thought, much like your father, you had gone the way of the coward."

"My Lord," Draco said in what he hoped was a convincing voice. "My time away from you was not by choice." He walked closer, keeping an eye on Nagini, who was curled up by Voldemort's side.

"Potter and his Order captured me and attempted to glean information about you from me." Draco stopped directly in front of Voldemort. "I'm proud to say, I told them nothing, biding my time until I could escape and serve you again. It is an honor to be in your presence once more."

Draco knelt down slowly, bowing before Voldemort, so he was now face-to-face with Nagini. In one swift move, he took the sword of Gryffindor from inside his cloak and slashed it clean through Nagini's body.

The snake let out an agonized hissing shriek and disintegrated before Draco's eyes.

Voldemort screamed in agony as another part of his severed soul died. Then he turned his hate-filled eyes on Draco. His snake-like nostrils flared as he raised his wand at Draco in rage, preparing to strike him dead.

Suddenly, Harry appeared.

"I'm the one you want," Harry said loudly, turning Voldemort's evil rage from Draco to himself.

_Avada Kedavra!_

A flash of green erupted from Voldemort's wand, and Harry fell to the ground.

Voldemort let out an evil, triumphant cackle as he regarded Harry's lifeless body.

Draco watched in horror as his enemy-turned-friend was struck dead. Then Draco struggled to stand so he could face Voldemort and finish what Harry had started.

* * *

Hermione wept against Ron's shoulder as they watched the scene unfolding at a distance, hidden behind rows of trees. They had been successful in destroying the cup of Hufflepuff, but they hadn't reached Harry in time to stop him from facing Voldemort.

In the blur of her tears, she saw Harry's lifeless body hit the ground, as scores of Death Eaters cheered and mocked him.

Horrified, she watched as Voldemort turned his gaze from Harry's body and bent to pick Harry's wand off the ground. He snapped it in half and turned towards Draco.

Leaving Harry's body behind him, Voldemort walked over to Draco, whose anguished expression matched how Hermione felt.

"Young Malfoy," Voldemort sneered at him, maliciously. "You chose your side poorly. Now you must bear the consequences."

With his wand, Voldemort, suspended Draco's body in the air, forcing all the breath out of his lungs. Hermione gasped in dismay and lunged towards him, but Ron held her back.

"Just like your father." Voldemort regarded Draco. "Too weak to do what was needed. Always trying to find the easy way out. Let's see what was so important that you would dare betray me."

With that, he dropped Draco to the ground. Draco stood to face him, gasping to catch his breath, when Voldemort shot his curse.

_Crucio!_

Draco instantly fell onto his back, face twisted in agony although he made no sound, as his body convulsed from the torture.

Hermione cried out in horror, the pain in her heart mimicking the pain Draco was experiencing. Ron put a quick hand over her mouth to stop her screams, so they wouldn't be discovered.

After what felt like a lifetime, Voldemort ended his curse and stood over Draco's limp shaking body. Voldemort gazed down at him intently, penetrating his mind, finding the information he wanted.

Voldemort let out an evil, mocking laugh, then directed his words towards the group of Death Eaters behind him.

"Friends, it appears young Draco has abandoned us…for love!"

His words were met with jeers and laughter.

"And not just any witch has stolen his heart." Voldemort himself laughed in wicked glee. "Oh no! He's in love with Potter's Mudblood!" The mocking laughter behind him turned to cries of outrage and disgust, as vile slurs were thrown at Draco.

At Voldemort's words, Hermione drew in a sharp breath and felt Ron's hold tighten on her arm.

Draco struggled to get to his feet until he stood unsteadily before Voldemort once again.

"You had so much promise," Voldemort said contemptuously, "but…I am a merciful leader. Serve me again, and I will spare you. Perhaps, I will even indulge you, and give you the Mudblood as your slave."

Voldemort swept a hand in front of him. "Bow before me, Draco, as your Lord and Master, and all will be forgiven."

Angry shouts rang out from behind Voldemort while Draco stood there, stony-faced, looking past Voldemort, as if raging an internal battle.

Hermione gasped in horror as she watched Draco slowly lower his head and bend his knees until he knelt low before Voldemort.

"My Lord," he whispered.

* * *

"He's in love with Potter's Mudblood!" Voldemort sneered to the crowd filled with many Death Eaters Draco had known since birth. Contemptuous shouts rang out, calling for Draco's death.

Voldemort's steely eyes met Draco's as he offered him a second chance to serve him. Draco knew it was all an act, that Voldemort was beginning what would be a long round of torture to make him pay for his betrayal. Draco swallowed and attempted to stand strong. Even if Voldemort meant what he said, Draco would never bow before him again.

Angry cries rang out behind Voldemort. His faithful followers were outraged at the idea that Draco would be allowed a second chance to serve their master. Draco's eyes searched the crowd and saw the evil faces of Bellatrix Lestrange, Corbin Yaxley, Theodore Nott Sr., and others. Supposed family and friends, crying for his death.

Ahead of the group, lay Harry's lifeless body. For a moment Draco envied him for being free of the world that was about to be anguished by the reign of Voldemort. Suddenly, Draco saw a flash of green eyes meet his and, in a moment, he knew what he had to do.

Draco looked back to Voldemort and slowly bowed his head, then bent at the knees so he was kneeling before him.

"My Lord," he whispered.

Voldemort erupted in evil laughter and that was Draco's chance.

He threw his wand as hard as he could. It rolled across the ground and into Harry's hands.

Harry sprang up, holding Draco's wand, and shouted.

Voldemort screamed as he whipped around.

_Expelliarmus!_

_Avada Kedavra!_

Red and green lights shot from each of their wands.

Draco, like everyone, watched spellbound as Harry's and Voldemort's wands met in battle.

Suddenly, Voldemort's wand flew from his hand and soared towards Harry. The green light from Voldemort's own curse rebounded and struck his body.

Voldemort collapsed, his snake-like appearance turning to his human form as Tom Riddle. Riddle shrieked and thrashed, then burst into flames and shriveled into dust.

It was over.

Harry turned towards the crowd of Death Eaters behind him, Voldemort's wand raised, and they all began to disperse. Some cursed the others in their mad attempt to flee.

Draco heard a rush behind him and countless students, staff, and Order members raced in his and Harry's direction. At the front of the crowd were Hermione and Ron, causing Draco to let out a shaky, relieved breath.

Hermione gathered Draco in a tight hug, which he returned with all his might. Then she let go and hugged Harry and Ron together.

The crowd reached them, and soon Harry, Hermione, and Ron were swallowed up by cheering, tears, and hugs. A few Order members and former classmates stopped to give Draco a respectful handshake, then made their way towards the trio.

Draco quietly eased his way out of the crowd and walked back towards the grounds of Hogwarts. The fame and admiration he had always envied Harry of meant nothing to him now. With a peaceful heart, he walked on. Their plan had worked. The world was free of Voldemort once again and Draco had helped make it so.

The celebration over Voldemort's defeat, and mourning for those lost in the battle, continued for many hours on the battered Hogwarts' grounds. Draco stayed on the fringe of it all but eventually caught up to Harry and held his hand out for a handshake. Harry accepted gladly.

"Thank you for trusting me," Draco said. "What happened to you, when Voldemort shot the killing curse at you? Why didn't you die?"

"I almost did…I think I could have stayed dead, if I wanted to. I saw Dumbledore. He explained it to me. Because Voldemort took my blood to fully resurrect himself after the Tri-wizard Tournament, he couldn't completely kill me. A part of me was still living in him. Voldemort killed his Horcrux, but not me."

Harry held Draco's wand out to him. "Then, when I returned, this finished him. By giving me your wand, you gave me the power I needed over Voldemort. You were the rightful owner of the Elder Wand, ever since you disarmed Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower that night."

Draco let the words sink in and shook his head, amazed that he had been the true owner of such a powerful wand. There was a time he would have desired nothing more. But now, he didn't want that kind of power.

"Maybe so…but it was always you, Potter. Sorry I came to the fight late, but I'm glad I made it in the end."

Draco turned to go when Harry called after him.

"She heard, you know."

Draco stopped.

"What Voldemort said, about you being in love with her. You should talk to her."

Draco turned around. His eyes looked past Harry's and found Hermione at a distance in the crowd, hugging Tonks and Lupin. She was crying, but her eyes were alive and her smile was vibrant.

"She deserves better," Draco replied with a small smile, then turned and walked away.

As he turned, he saw Harry shaking his head sadly, for both his new friend and his old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd I do, guys? This chapter was the hardest one for me to write out of the whole story because I wanted to keep certain elements true to the actual story, while adding in my own twists. I do wish Draco had a better redemption in the book and movie. Sigh! Had to settle for this. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> And yes, I saved Tonks and Lupin per a request from a dear reader ;)
> 
> There is one more chapter left and an epilogue. I will post them at the same time though. Please comment!


	22. Coming Home

Draco was once again back at his wooded home where he and Hermione had spent Christmas.

He had almost completely cleaned the place out, as his luggage lay packed in one corner with boxes of things he would put into storage next to them.

Harry had been true to his word. Draco had met with several Ministry and Wizengamot officials who reviewed his case and pardoned him from spending any time in Azkaban. Besides some restrictions on the type of magic he could perform, Draco Malfoy was a free man.

He looked around the empty room, memories flashing back to him. The couch where Hermione had sat when he first brought her there and he had created his message to Potter; the table where they had shared many meals but had shared more stories; and the radio that had played Christmas carols as they danced in the dining room, where he had finally kissed her.

Draco had found his mother in New Zealand and restored her memory, then filled her in on everything he had done in her absence. He left nothing out, including his feelings for Hermione. He didn't know if she would approve, but he didn't feel ashamed.

Narcissa Malfoy cried at many points in his story, especially at the end.

"It's over," she whispered, "it's finally over." She turned her sad eyes on her son and said, "I never wanted you to be like him, Draco. But your father…was so insistent…"

She shook her head. "I'm glad, in the end, you became your own man."

Draco was shocked. It was the kindest thing his mother had ever said to him. Then she squeezed his hand. "I'd like to meet this Hermione Granger again. She seems like a remarkable girl."

His mother had returned to Malfoy Manor and was arranging to sell it. She told him she thought she'd like to go back to New Zealand to live, where the Malfoy name wasn't so well known, and she would make a new life for herself. Draco planned to go with her and help her get settled, but he wouldn't stay.

When he originally returned to his house in the woods, he thought he might make it his home. But the memories of the time he and Hermione had spent there together were too fresh in his mind. He knew he would always miss her, but there, it was almost unbearable. He felt her everywhere.

He decided he would make a clean break, perhaps travel for a while, until he found somewhere new to settle down. Somewhere where he, like his mother, could make his own name for himself.

Draco had just finished packing up the nativity set on the mantel and was about to start removing the Christmas tree decorations, when he heard the kitchen door open.

He spun around and saw Hermione standing there, removing her cloak and hanging it on the same spot she had when she had stayed with him.

He stared at her, glass ornament in hand. "What are you doing here?"

She walked over to him and stood beside him, gazing up at the mostly-decorated Christmas tree. Although it wasn't illuminated, she said, "This is still the most beautiful tree I've ever seen."

Then she turned to face him. "Why did you leave so soon, after the battle? Everyone wanted to thank you."

He gave a quick disbelieving laugh. "I'm sure they survived fine without me. Besides, I needed to find my mother and…make plans."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I brought my parents back a few days ago. They were slightly angry with me but mostly relieved." She smiled.

Draco returned her smile. "I'm glad they're safe and you get to be with them again. I bet they missed you, when their memories were gone, even without realizing it." He felt that if he Obliviated her from his memory, she would still be burned there somehow.

"What are you going to do now?" Hermione asked him curiously, as she took an ornament off the tree and placed it in wrappings from a box he had out.

Draco shrugged his shoulders, removing a tinkling reindeer chime ornament. "Travel, finish school by correspondence, if I can." He had never attended his seventh year at Hogwarts, due to being confined to the Manor while it was headquarters for the Death Eaters.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure you'll be able to. Harry and Ron are." She looked up at him. "I already said I'd help them. I can help you too, if you want."

"Can't resist the chance to be a know-it-all, can you?" he teased, but his words held no malice.

She made a face at him and he smiled kindly at her as he said, "Thanks, but I'm sure I'll manage okay."

Hermione stared at a silver glass snowflake ornament she was holding and said quietly, "What Voldemort said about me…when he read your mind…is that true?"

Draco turned to face her and saw her fiddling uncomfortably with the ornament in her hands, eyes down, holding her breath.

"Yes," Draco sighed, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "I'm afraid so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She looked up at him, sounding angry.

"Come on, Hermione." He ran a quick hand through his hair. "You really think we make sense together? Think about our history, your family, your friends…no one would like it. We'd be up against the world."

"No," her expression softened, "I guess we don't. But it also doesn't make any sense that a few weeks ago, I went to a Christmas party and danced with a mysterious man who was nothing like he seemed, and now…I'm in love with him, too."

Draco swallowed, taking a step towards her. "You are?"

"Yes," she lifted her chin defiantly, "and I think he's arrogant and obnoxious enough not to care what anyone else thinks."

Draco thought about this for a moment, then laughed. "I hear he's also incredibly handsome and charming."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "With an ego the size of Hogwarts."

Draco's expression turned serious, and he spoke softly as he pushed up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing his Dark Mark. "This is always going to be here, you know…my past…our history…"

Hermione laid a tender hand on his marked skin and looked into his gray eyes.

"When I look at it now, I don't see a Death Eater. I see someone who was strong enough to stand up against everything he was taught to believe and find his own way." She shook her head. "I don't care about your past…I care about your future."

As her words sank in, suddenly, he knew she was right about the two of them. It didn't make sense, but he didn't care. She loved him back, despite everything, and that was all that mattered.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on her cheek.

"I love you too, Draco Malfoy." As she smiled back at him, they both heard a soft rustling noise over their heads. They looked up and saw a large bloom of mistletoe magically growing above them.

"I see you never removed the spell that gives me everything I need," she laughed.

"And I never will," he replied, just before kissing her.


	23. Epilogue

Hermione ran her fingers along the spines of the books in front of her as she perused the bookshelves. She never grew tired of spending time in this library. Even though it had been part of her home for a while now, she still found new treasures hidden in the stacks.

She pursed her lips, searching for a specific book among the thousands. On her left hand, a large emerald ring sparkled in the sunlight that was coming in from the large picture window across the room.

She was so engrossed in her task that she didn't even hear footsteps coming up behind her. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and a smooth, masculine voice spoke in her ear. "There you are. I should have known you would be in here."

She smiled, then let out a triumphant exclamation, "Aha! Here it is."

She pulled a book out of the shelf, entitled _Magical Names & Their Meanings for Baby Witches & Wizards._

"But we already know their names," the voice chided her gently, "Draco Jr. and Dracomena."

"Ha! More like Harry and Ronette," she answered teasingly, her hand landing on top of his, which was resting on her ever-growing belly.

Draco shuddered then spoke over her shoulder towards her abdomen, "Don't worry, babies, I'd never let her do that to you."

Then he took his other hand, brushing her hair away from one of her shoulders, and placed soft kisses on her neck.

"Draco," she exclaimed breathlessly, a satisfied smile spreading over her face. He brought his kisses down to her collarbone and she let out a blissful sigh.

"All right, I have what I need. Anyway, Harry, Ginny, and James are going to be here for dinner soon with Ron and Luna. You have to promise to look through this book with me tomorrow though."

"Deal." Then Draco turned her around to face him. "I knew you couldn't resist me for long," he said smugly and pulled her body in close to his.

She put an arm around his neck and chided him, "You really are a petulant child sometimes, you know that?"

He laced the fingers of her left hand in his, admiring the emerald ring on them. "I can't believe you ever said this was gaudy. It looks like it was made for you."

Hermione looked down at the ring on her finger. "I will admit that it's grown on me, much like the man who gave it to me," she teased.

Draco placed a gentle hand on her stomach again. "You hear that, babies, your mother thinks I'm irresistible."

Hermione rolled her eyes, then said thoughtfully, "Can you believe it was four years ago today that we met again at the Ministry Christmas party?"

Draco chuckled. "Steven Carmichael has no idea what he missed…serves him right for being such a bore."

Hermione gave his arm a playful swat as Draco continued. "That day changed my life. It gave me something I never had before."

"What's that?" Hermione asked him, quizzically.

"Hope."

Then his eyes turned serious.

"I love you, Mrs. Draco Malfoy," he said in a low voice, before placing a deep kiss on her lips that felt like coming home.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are your final/overall thoughts? Please do tell me! I think I'm going to be having withdrawals from this story because I had so much fun writing it and hearing all your comments. Also, if you're a new reader, help me out by leaving me a review or adding it to your favorites so I'm not completely desolate! It would be FANTASTIC to still get comments even now that I'm done updating this.
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> I am currently posting my next Dramione Fanfiction, Defending the Dark. Check it out on my profile!
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> If you want to read more of my stuff, follow me on here! You can also visit my website (www.CeceLouise.com) and find me on Facebook (CeceLouiseAuthor), Twitter (CeceLAuthor), and Pinterest (CeceLouiseAuthor).
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> -Cece Louise


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